


Garnet

by MissWia



Series: 366 Days of Writing [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, Dark Character, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Gen, Incest, M/M, Multi, Other, Platonic Relationships, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 31
Words: 40,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWia/pseuds/MissWia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~Previously titled January~</p><p>Love bound them, across lives and universes. It always ended up there, together, and it always would. Some times it was a peaceful ending, some times not. But one thing remained, their lives were always intertwined.</p><p>Inspired by MilkTeaMiku. My attempt at writing everyday for a year. Various short stories of my favorite pairings (romantic or otherwise) from The Hobbit. Tags will be added as needed. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo/Thorin

**Author's Note:**

> Bilbo loved Erebor, but he loved the king even more.

Erebor was the jewel of the east. A kingdom of magnificent wealth and power that inspired awe in all those who looked upon its vast riches.

All except one.

Bilbo Baggins didn't care for the gems that were gathered from the mountain or the gold that was harvested like wheat in the summer. They were pretty things to look at, certainly, but baubles at the end of the day.

No. For him the wonder of Erebor lay in its people, the dwarves who called the Mountain their home. He saw greatness in the miners who delved deep into the darkness and wonder in the craftsmen who made such beautiful things. He held great fondness for the scribes who faithfully kept records of the Ages and the weavers who told the same stories in their beautiful tapestries.

But like every other person within the Mountain, there was one particular aspect of Erebor that he loved most. One dwarf among thousands that he favored above all else. To him, Erebor would hold no beauty or splendor without her king. Thorin Oakenshield was the one who made the Mountain a true Kingdom.

Of course, that hadn't always been the case. In fact, he thought with an amused smile, not too long ago Thorin was right next to his dreaded cousin Lobelia on his list of Thoroughly Unpleasant and Aggravating People. He had been such a sullen and prickly grump in those first weeks of the Journey. At the time Bilbo never thought they would ever grow past begrudging acquaintances, such was his opinion of the exiled king.

Granted, he had been on Thorin's corresponding list as well, having inspired very little (if any) admiration as the chosen burglar of his esteemed Company. A few near death experiences and heartbreaking confessions helped smooth the way, though. And here they were, a year later.

"Dare I ask what thoughts have prompted such a fond smile," a familiar voice rumbled in his ear as two hulking arms wrapped around his waist.

Bilbo felt his smile widen as he leaned back into his dwarf, inhaling the rich scent of his person. A mix of smoke, spiced oils, and something wholly Thorin.

"Just how lucky I am that our first impressions of each other weren't lasting. You were quite the arrogant creature when we met," he admitted, gentle teasing coloring his words.

He felt Thorin hum in agreement, a deep vibration from his chest that pleasantly passed through Bilbo.

"Yes. I recall you being quite the fussy old bachelor. Hardly burglar material."

"Old?!"

Thorin laughed at Bilbo's mock outrage, arms tightening around him and holding him even closer.

"You certainly proved me wrong."

The hobbit huffed, wrinkling his nose as he put on a show of airs.

"Well of course I did. I am a Baggins of Bag End and quite an impressive hobbit, I'll have you know."

Thorin laughed at his display of mock self-importance, leaning down to gently nuzzle into the others neck.

"Naturally, my dear. After all a king wouldn't wed any ordinary hobbit. No, only the best will do," he replied with a kiss right below the ear.

Bilbo hemmed with contentment, enjoying the feel of Thorin's soft beard against his own naked skin. The stood in silence, content with just being near each other. Very rarely did they get such peace nowadays that both loathed to ruin it with simple chatter.

It was as near a perfect moment as possible. Bilbo, held tightly in his husbands arms, in their home full of cherished memories of friends, family, and each other. It was hard to imagine that this life with Thorin almost ended in blood and tears. But he did imagine it. Too often in fact. Nights were spent in cold sweats as visions of ice and swords danced through his mind. Only the physical touch of his husband could dispel the images and soothe his thoughts.

As he thought on what could have been, how things could have ended, he brought his hands up to clutch at the ones still wrapped around his waist. Thorin instantly knew the mood had changed.

"Promise me, Thorin," he whispered, small hands digging into large ones, "promise me that no matter what happens we will find each other."

It was a desperate plea, almost childish in its demand but too important to go unasked or unanswered. So Thorin did.

"Always, ghivashel. In this life and the next, I will find you."

It was a great comfort, and Bilbo felt himself relax again.

He truly was a lucky hobbit.


	2. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a crime to hunt in the King's forest, but she was willing to risk death to save her family from starvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MedievalAU, all humans. One of my favorite pairings that I don't think there is enough of!

It was against the law, hunting in the King's forest. A crime punishable by death if you were caught. But that death was a mercifully quick one. Starvation was a cruel and prolonged affair. So Sigrid hunted, creeping silently through the shadows of the forest with eyes peeled for both predator and prey.

Five times she had done this, five times had her family faced such a dire situation that the rewards far outweighed the risks. Her father hated it, but didn't stop her from going. One look at Tilda's hollowed cheeks kept him from voicing any real protest. He would have gone himself, but Sigrid refused. His work in town was their main source of income, and though it was barely enough at times to scrap by without it they would surely perish.

So she went instead. Into the dark woods that held both their salvation and doom.

After hours of quiet searching, she picked up a trail. A deer had passed by, not too long ago, and one of decent size by the looks of the brush. She quickly followed it further into the forest, further than she normally dared. Too far in and she would come to the King's palace. But her family was hungry and they needed this kill.

The tracks continued on, and with every step she felt her heart race faster and faster but her steps get slower and slower. Every bush rustling or twig breaking had her stopping, certain it was one of the King's guard. It never was.

Finally the tracks came to an end. Crouching low, she peered into the forest and picked out her prey. A stag in his prime and with enough meat on him to feed her family for weeks to come if properly harvested.

Slowly she nocked her bow, steadying her breath as she caught the creature in her sights. A moment passed, the forest was silent. The arrow was released, cutting swiftly through the air and finding its target with ease. The stag gave a soft bellow at the impact and fell. A clean kill and it was done.

Fighting a triumphant smile, Sigrid left her hiding place and approached her prize. Only to stop and stare in horror. Her arrow was nestled clearly into the animals throat, but another pierced it's hide. One made of finer material than any of hers and bearing the colors of the Royal House.

She stumbled back, understanding that she needed to run but not quite able to force her body to do just that. A commotion in front of her had her eyes snapping up from the fallen stag and watching as two men in fine furs appeared.

"A good shot, brother," the dark haired one praised, laughing as they approached the kill.

"Naturally! We will feast well tonight," his fair companion replied with a merry smile, only for it to fall as he caught sight of Sigrid.

Frowning at the sight of her he then glanced back down at the deer, eyes widening at the sight of her arrow next to his. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't wait. She turned heel and dashed back into the woods, desperate to put as much distance between them as possible.

"Wait! Stop, woman!"

She ignored the shouting behind her, continuing to race through the forest with only one goal. Reach home. From there, she would plan what to do.

So intent was she on escaping that she didn't recognize the sound of someone giving chase until they grabbed her from behind and wrestled her to the ground.

With a cry she fell, but instantly began to kick and claw at the larger body in the hopes of getting free. He was too strong though.

"Be still," the man hissed, pinning her wrists to the ground and settling his entire weight on top of her. She continued to struggle.

"Mercy, sir! I beg mercy," she cried, tears welling in her eyes as she fought futilely against his hold.

The man huffed and used more of his strength to hold her down.

"Calm yourself, woman. You shall not be harmed."

Sigrid stilled, turning to look at the man who held her. It was the one with golden hair. He gazed down at her with a disgruntled look, his bearded face twisted in a frown.

He seemed satisfied with her stillness, adjusting his weight so he straddled her instead. It was more comfortable for both, but still insured she remained in his control.

"Now," he began, watching her with stern but not unkind blue eyes, "you are aware that it is a crime to hunt in the King's woods?"

Fearfully, she nodded. The man hummed, continuing to watch her.

"A crime in which the punishment is beheading."

At his words all the fight left Sigrid's body, slumping further into the ground as she sobbed. If her hands were free she would cover her face, but this man still held them with his own.

"Sir, I beg of you, have mercy! My family starves, it was desperation that sent me to this. Please, I ask for mercy," she cried, shutting her eyes as the tears continued to fall.

She felt him shift above her, but continued to hold tight. She opened her eyes. He was still watching her, his face a mask of stoicism.

"Your family? They are the reason you risk it all?"

She shakily nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Children?"

She nodded again.

"A brother and sister, 10 and 7 summers, sir."

"And you? At what age does one risk their life so others might live?"

The question startled her. Why was he so curious about why she was here? Should he not have dragged her to the King without delay? Yet here he was, asking her age.

"19 summers, sir."

Her answer seemed to startle him.

"So young," he murmured, eyes now taking in the youth of her face.

His surprise struck a fire in her. He was obviously of noble blood if he was shocked at someone her age gambling with her life. It angered her.

"Old enough to intimately know the stench of death, to understand the aching pains as ones stomach turns on itself. To know that no help will come and you must take for yourself," she hissed, finding new strength in her anger to struggle again.

She managed to get the upper hand, twisting beneath him and crawling away. He caught her quickly enough, though, his arms now wrapped around her torso and trapping her to his chest. She heard him panting in her ear.

"Peace, woman! I shall not reveal what was done here. Nor will my brother. You have my word!"

She stopped again, not quite believing what had just been said.

She turned her head, managing to face him in this new position. They were so near she could feel his breath on her cheeks. She searched his eyes for deceit, but found none.

"Why?"

The man smiled wryly at her question, shrugging one shoulder as best as he could.

"Perhaps because I believe no child should wonder whether or not they have eaten their last meal. Or that providing for your family is not a crime."

His words stunned her, his kindness so foreign. No one did such things where she was from. No one could afford it.

He took advantage of her silence and surprise, asking one further question.

"Your name, lady?"

She answered without delay, her shock clouding her judgment.

"Sigrid of Dale."

The man smiled at her, pleased with the answer.

"Well, Sigrid of Dale, though I quite enjoy holding you perhaps it would be best if we rise from the forest floor?"

She blushed at his cheeky response, but nodded nonetheless. He climbed off her and offered her his hand, easily helping her up when she took it but didn't release her just yet.

"It's nearly dusk, and it's a long trek back to Dale. It would be wise if you head home, Sigrid," he said, his hand gently caressing her own.

Still blushing, she nodded. Her breath stopped as he lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle, but lingering kiss to her palm.

"I hope we may meet again, in less frightening circumstances. Until then, I bid the farewell, fair Sigrid."

Her heart now raced for another reason entirely, a reason that was just as terrifying but also exciting.

He gave her another smile, soft and kind, before releasing her hand and striding back into the woods. She watched him go, unbelieving as to what had just occurred. Only when she could no longer see or hear him did she begin walking as well, opposite of where he left.

It was only when she reached her home, empty handed but alive, that she realized she didn't even know his name.

That was remedied the next day, when her father answered the door to a squire, pulling a cart filled with carefully dressed deer meat with her arrow wrapped in the matching hide. A note was given to her as well.

_To the Lady Sigrid of Dale_

_We can both agree that it was your arrow that founds its mark, thus this kill is yours. I hope it feeds your family until the next time we meet._

_Forever at your service,_

_Fili of the House Durin_

_**Crown Prince to the Throne of Erebor** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was easier to write then yesterday. It helps not being hungover! Hope you enjoyed it. I love Fili/Sigrid so much and wish there was more stories about them. If you see any mistakes, please tell me. Or if you have ideas for a certain pairing let me know!


	3. Ori/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Ori missed the sea. But there were far more things he would miss from the surface world if he went back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mermaid AU, as the tags promised. With what I believe is the second favorite pairing in this fandom. Dwori!

He misses the sea. When the waves are gentle and the water is warm he misses being apart of it. The surface world is a wonder and he doesn't regret being a part of it, but sometimes he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn’t left.

Today is one of those days. He is standing at the kitchen window, staring out at the ocean before him. It’s just past sunrise, the world still bathed in a gentle light as the sun hasn't quite reached the open sky. Already he knows that it will be a good day. A day perfect for a picnic on the cliff side or a stroll along the shore to search for shells. Ori won’t do any of this though.

Instead he looks behind him, eyes quickly finding the shadowed corner and the chest that lay hidden there. Unassuming but full of a treasure beyond this world.

Biting his lip, he hesitates for a moment. He shouldn't open the chest, he should ignore it and continue on with his day as if nothing is wrong. But he can’t help himself. So he approaches it. Takes the key off his neck and unlocks it. And gazes on the wonder that is inside.

Carefully he reaches in and pulls out the glimmering tail inside. Blue, green, and purple glimmer in the soft light, mesmerizing with their beauty. He brings it to his nose and gentle inhales, closing his eyes as the smell of sea and sand fill his lungs. The ache in his heart increases.

“Ya want ta go back,” a gruff voice speaks from behind him. 

Ori doesn’t deny it.

“Sometimes.”

 He hears Dwalin sigh and feels him sit beside him. Strong arms wrap around his waist and a heavy head rests at his shoulder.

“You can leave anytime, lad. I won’t have ya staying here if it makes ya unhappy.”

For a moment, Ori is tempted to take the offer. It would be so easy to go back. To return to the life he had before he ever met Dwalin, to return to the brothers that he missed.

Then he remembers. Remembers why he chose to stay, all those years ago.

XXX

 The storm tossed the waves to and fro, reminding Ori of when a great herd of whales played and breached the surface. It was a fun time to be a merman.

The energy rippled through the water and he watched as younger merfolk let it drag them around and around in a fun game. He too enjoyed such things when he was smaller. Occasionally he would join them, the thrill of his stomach bottoming out as a particularly powerful tide pulled at him still enjoyable now that he was an adult. Not today, however. Today this storm would hopefully serve a purpose.

He saw toward the surface, eyes peeled for any prize that he might take. Rumors of humans crossing above in their great floating creations had reached their home and in storms like these it wasn’t unusual for some of their wonderful treasures to be tossed into the waves. Ori loved these strange things. He loved the odd shapes and textures these things had and he loved guessing what purpose they might serve. His favorite things were perhaps the pieces that gleamed like his scales when the light from the surface hit it in such a way. They made wonderful grooming implements, both for untangling the hair on his head and picking off dead scales on his tail. Humans were such clever creatures to make such a thing.

The young merman continued up to the surface, happily humming away as he searched here and there for anything of interest. He wasn’t at all bothered by the commotion of the ocean. This storm, though great, wasn’t terrible awful. At least not for such a strong swimmer like himself.

Something sank past the corner of his eye and quickly he turned to investigate. A delighted smile came to his face as spotted a piece of what looked like one of the human’s floating inventions drift into the deep. Perhaps there was more nearby?

Ori picked up speed, sweeping through the water with ease as he traveled in the general direction the chunk sank in. Sure enough there was more.

He found all sorts of things in the water. Some more grooming implements that shone like his scales and colorful round things that were attached in a loop. Dori would certainly like that! There was a strange, jagged piece that cut his hand, but when he looked at it saw himself looking back. Certainly a gift for Nori!

He placed all this in his little sack until it was near bursting. Only then did he begin to turn back. He stopped though. Something else was in the water.

Swimming closer he was delighted to see a human in the water. He had never seen one up close before. What a treat!

“Hello there,” he called, swimming up to the creature with a friendly smile. He didn’t get a reply. Frowning, he swam closer.

“I said, hello there!”

Still nothing. He looked closer. The human’s eyes were shut. Was he sleeping? He didn’t know humans could sleep in the water. He didn’t want to be rude and disturb their sleep, but when would he ever have an opportunity like this again.

Gentle he reached out and tapped the human. He didn’t respond. He tapped it again and again. Still nothing.

Getting frustrated he reached out with both hands and griped his face and gave it a good shake.

“Wake up, now! Wake up!”

Nothing.

This was certainly unusual. But not in a good way, Ori thought. He was sure humans were like dolphins and whales, sticking close to the surface because they needed to be above the water to breath. So why was this human sleeping beneath it?

Panic gripped him as he rushed forward, pressing an ear to the others chest. He heard a heartbeat, but it was getting slower and slower. That wasn’t a good sign.

Without thought he grabbed the human by the waist and pulled him toward the surface. They broke through with a rush, the cold air stinging his skin. Ori ignored the water that fell from the sky and focused on lifting the other above the water.

“Look! You are above the water. Breath now! Breath,” he begged, huffing at the strength it took to keep the very large creature from falling into the waves. The human remained asleep. Ori knew he needed to get him out of the storm and away from the water.

He looked around, hoping to find one of the great floating masses that the humans used to stay above the water but saw nothing. His next best option was to get to shore, a short distance away. He set off at once.

“You must breath, we are almost to shore.”

He kept up this mantra as he dragged the human to the shallow waters. The storm made it harder as he fought the waves. He was strong, though, and soon was on the sandy beach with his companion.

The merman managed to pull him out of the water and away from the tide, awkward outside of the water but managing. He anxiously watched the human, waiting for him to wake. He didn’t.

Ori didn’t know what else to do. So he fell back on the only way he knew could wake up Nori after a rough night of heavy drinking. He began to beat on his chest.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he demanded, pounding on his body with all his strength.

It worked.

The human gasped and began spitting out water, turning on his side so it fell into the sand and not back into his mouth. Ori was very pleased with himself.

He gave the human a moment, listening patiently as he drew in raspy breathes. When his breathing seemed to even out, he spoke.

“That was a silly thing to do. Humans can’t breathe underwater, so why would you take a nap there? Is it some ritual you do to prove your strength?”

The human turned and glared at him, only for his eyes to widen in shock at the sight of him. Ori imagined this was his first time meeting a merman, just as it was his first time meeting a human. He let him stare.

“I’m Ori, by the way. I brought you to shore.”

“D-Dwalin, at yer service,” the man replied.

Ori grinned at him, shifting so he was seated a bit closer.

“It’s nice to meet you Dwalin. Now what is this,” he asked, reaching into his bag and thrusting the jagged piece that showed his face at the human.

The rain continued.

XXX

Ori smiled at the memory. It was so long ago, but still he remembered it perfectly. So much had changed since then.

He now knew that the piece that cut his hand was part of a greater thing, a mirror it was called. And the pieces that shined like his scales were made of silver, and the ones he used for grooming where actually used for eating. If he wanted to untangle his hair he would use a comb or a brush, both made of wood which is what also made floating things humans traveled in. Ships.

Dwalin taught him all this, showed him the wonders of the surface world. If he went back to the ocean he would have to leave all these fantastic things. Most importantly though, he would have to leave Dwalin.

With a content sigh he placed his tail back into the chest and locked it away.

“No,” he told Dwalin, “I don’t think I will go back. There are too many wonderful things here to ever go back.”

He felt the other man’s arms tighten around his waist and a bristly kiss press against his cheek. He giggled at the sensation. Those kisses were now his favorite things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload, everyone. I went to Monticello with my family today (the home of Thomas Jefferson) and we got back around five. And then I spent four hours trying to write this thing! It took my forever to just narrow down the kind of world I wanted to write in. I started with a ModernAU then went to one that was set right before The Journey, then one in Erebor. Finally settled with this. Hope you like it! As always, if you see any mistakes please let me know. Or if you have any ideas or requests for the series I would love to hear them!


	4. Bofur/Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bofur had bad days but rarely did they end like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How Bofur met Nori. I like to think it wasn't a quite as smooth as people think.

Bofur was a cheerful dwarf by nature. He was always quick to smile and share a laugh with a friend. Very rarely did anyone see him upset or cross. It did happen though.

He had bad days, just like everyone else. Today just happened to be one.

Work had been hard. Long hours toiling away in the dark mines had left an uncomfortable pinch in his back and he had very little to show for all the hard work. A few gems of subpar quality and a pinch of silver. Enough to pay for dinner, but not nearly enough for Bifur’s medicine which had run out three days prior. He hated to ask Bombur, who barely made enough to feed all his little ones but never hesitated to give some to his cousin, but if his luck didn’t turn by tomorrow he would have to. Anything for Bifur.

“Better than nothing,” he muttered to himself, hefting his mattock to rest across his shoulder. All he wanted was to get home at this point, perhaps heat a few rocks to soothe his back. And a nice pipe. And mug of ale. Yes, that all sounded lovely.

Tiredly he trudged on, head down and avoiding any friendly gazes. Normally he would be happy to return them, eager to chat for a few minutes before heading on. Not tonight though. Tonight he wanted to be left alone. It wasn’t to be.

Let it be said that while Bofur was of a sunny disposition, he was no pushover. So when he felt the subtle brush of foreign fingers at his belt he doesn’t hesitate to react.

His reflexes are quick as he reaches down and twists the strange hand away, forcing the would-be thief to yield instantly.

“That’s mine,” he hissed, yanking the arm he had in what he knew what a very painful manner.

“Got it, my mistake,” the red haired dwarf laughed, breathless with pain. Bofur frowned, not really pleased with the reaction.

He thought a nice relaxing evening at home would help him end this long day. Now that he thought on it though, maybe a good fight would do instead.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t knock yer teeth in.”

The dwarf laughed again, subtly twitching and testing the strength of his hold. He tightened his grip.

“Cause I’m a pretty dwarf and you would hate to ruin my future marriage prospects?”

The miner’s lips twitched into a small smile, only to be forcefully suppressed. Now was not the time to joke and flirt. Now was the time to get angry, throw a few punches.

The other dwarf seemed to sense his conflict, turning his head to flash him a charming smile. Bofur was momentarily distracted by the intricate braiding of his beard and eyebrows. Such beauty.

“Tell ya what. How’s about I buy ya a few drinks to make up for this…misunderstanding. We’ll have a few laughs, flirt with a few dwarrows, then we can part as unlikely friends. None too worse for wear.”

Bofur frowned at the offer. He was suspicious, but a free drink was tempting. He let up on his grip ever so slightly.

“I don’t even know yer name.”

The ginger gave him a cheeky smile.

“Nori, at yer service,” he said with a coy wink. Bofur was again distracted by his beautiful eyebrow as it bobbed low with the gesture. Mahal above he was gorgeous.

“Bofur,” he finally replied, letting go of Nori entirely. “And fair warning, I drink hard and fast.”

The tri-lobed dwarf gave a filthy chuckle.

“What a coincidence. That’s how I like most things.”

The miner felt heat pool low in his belly. This night was getting better.

“Fair enough,” he replied, thankful his voice was on this side of husky and not hoarse. Nori’s smile grew at his reply, changing from coy to downright predatory. The heat in his belly increased.

“The Broken Hammer has a good brew.”

Suddenly he was nestled underneath Bofur’s arm, his own wrapped tightly around his waist. The thief looked up and gave him another cheeky grin, one that he the miner found himself returning easily.

“Let’s get going then.”

They actually never made it to the drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur and Nori are great, in my not so unbiased opinion. I love their cheery and cheeky dispositions together! Hope you enjoyed reading it. As always, if you see any mistakes or any ideas for future fics please let me know. Love to hear them. :)


	5. Kili/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili didn't even know why tried to steal the pen, but the beautiful police officer was a perk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Tauriel, not so popular as others but I re-watched The Battle of the Five Armies and cried over them. Again. I tried to write something funny and light to make up for that.

The pen hadn't been worth stealing, not really. It wasn’t even a good pen, like a solid gold fountain pen with engravings on the side that his Uncle used to sign special documents with. No, it was more like a fifteen cent piece of plastic with ink that smeared and was attached to a clipboard by a piece of string.

That didn’t mean he regretted it though. Was it uncomfortable being handcuffed to a plastic chair? Yes. Did he really have to pee? Absolutely. But there was a beautiful woman sitting across from him with red hair and a no nonsense look in her eyes and Kili was sure he was in love.

“Name?”

“Kili Durin. I’m 28 years old, an Aquarius, I have a passion for cooking and big dogs that don’t realize their size. Also small dogs that can fit inside small things. Really any type of dog.”

He grinned widely at her. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

“Your name is all I asked. Can you tell me why you felt compelled to steal the pen,” she asked as she frowned down at her paperwork.

Kili heaved a sigh, shrugging his shoulders as best as he could.

“I don’t have a good answer. Would you believe me if I said it was for charity? That I did it for the kids?”

“No.”

“You're a perceptive woman, I sensed that immediately about you. You want the truth and won’t stop until you get it. I respect that.”

“I’m a police officer. It’s in my job description.”

He eagerly nodded along, wanting to connect with this woman so badly.

“Yeah, I totally dig that. Nothing sexier than an officer of the law, protecting the streets.”

Why did he say that? That was the dumbest thing he could have ever said. Douchebag level of awful.

Yet it got a smirk out of her. A tiny one, but one nonetheless. He shot her a bashful smile.

“Well, most guys did the handcuffs. Can’t really blame them though. I enjoy them myself.”

Dear god. She was perfect.

“Tauriel.”

The new voice startled him, causing him to jump back in his seat. Luckily it seemed to be bolted to the floor and not in danger of tipping over. That was a plus.

“Legolas,” his angel of an officer responded. “I’m in the middle of an interview.”

She turned away from him to glance at the officer behind him. Kili followed her gaze and instantly didn’t like this new comer. His policewoman, Tauriel, was strong and wild and fierce. This guy, this Legolas looked like a stiff wind would break him in half. And he totally dyed his hair. No man had hair that naturally blond. Jerk.

Maybe he was a little jealous? Didn’t matter, it was love. Love made you do stupid things and it was pure. He wouldn’t apologize for it.

“The chief wants him processed at once.”

Wait, what?

This seemed to surprise Tauriel as well. She turned in her chair but didn’t stand to leave.

“He stole a pen. Not even successfully. It was attached to a desk and he tripped trying to take it. Not hardened criminal material.”

The other man seemed unconcerned.

“Chief’s orders. You’re to sign him over to me and be done with it.”

Kili looked back at Tauriel, noting the subtle clench in her jaw and sudden steeliness in her eye. It was obvious that she was reluctant to go through with this command.

“Imentitletoaphonecall!”

The two officers turned to stare at him, obviously unsure exactly how to translate his word vomit. He cleared his throat and began again.

“I’m entitled to a phone call. Prisoners rights, article 18 subsection 5. ‘Any and all incarcerated persons, barring those of malicious activity that threaten the sound safety of the United States Government and her people, are entitled to contact with a legal representative and the right to inform those of legal guardianship of the situation at hand’,” he recited confidently. He may have swelled with pride at Tauriel’s impressed eyebrow raise.

“By night I’m a pen thief. Nine to five I work as a lawyer with my uncle’s firm,” he confessed with a modest wink. He was pleased that got her to smile again, however smile. It also helped that he saw…Legolas tense at his words. Kili practically smelled the jealously rolling off him. That also made his ego grow.

“He’s right, Legolas. The law is in his favor. Tell the chief he will be processed when he gets his phone call.”

The bottle blond glared at him, but stiffly nodded. He turned and left, closing the door sharply behind him. If Kili ever saw him again it would be way too soon.

“So,” he drawled, turning back to Tauriel, “any chance I can get your number? I heard I get one phone call in his joint and I want to make it worth while.”

That got him a full blown smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was another hard one! But it's done and I can focus on the next one. Hopefully it'll get easier with each one. As always, let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy. :)


	6. Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves and hobbits were different. But not too different, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Thorin and Bilbo, though it's more like the beginning of Thilbo?

Dwarves were not like hobbits. Bilbo knew this. He knew it when he was just a lad at his mother’s knee listening to her tales, and he knew it when he was an adult grown with far too many responsibilities. He definitely knew it when twelve, later thirteen, of them traipsed into his home unannounced and completely unwelcome (initially) and wrecked havoc on his poor pantries and doilies.

That being said, knowing dwarves were different than hobbits in was one thing. Actually seeing those differences play out was another, and much less easily spotted.

It began a week out of Hobbiton. He was miserable, suffering from hay fever and saddle sores but he was on a proper adventure. A part of him, a part he had though long gone, was absolutely thrilled. Bilbo had only ever been as far as Bree, which they had yet to pass, but already he was experiencing new things. Like Mister Dwalin showing his expertise with his deadly axes as he put Fili and Kili through their paces after dinner. He tended to sit closer to Gandalf than the others of the Company, but during these times he may have snuck a bit closer to get a better look. It was really quite something, seeing a great warrior like Mister Dwalin practice his craft. He would never share this with the others, but the tattooed dwarf reminded him of the hero in one of the old stories his mother would read to him at night. All muscle, honor, and skill. Quite a gallant fellow who slayed orcs and saved maidens from dastardly Lords.

It was during one of these sparring bouts that he first saw it. So quick and carefree that he would have missed it if he weren’t looking right at them. Kili had just been tossed to the ground by Dwalin and had been helped up by his brother. Fili smirked at him, helping him dust off his clothes before reaching out and… _flicking_ his brother’s ear! Bilbo felt his mouth drop open and a sudden rush of heat race across his face the action. He could forgive their youth for being so bold with their affection but they were brothers! Of course he had heard of a few cousins in Buckland close enough to share _two_ grandparents with affection for each other, but siblings?! It simply wasn’t done in the Shire.

Dwarves were different though, a fact he lamented quite often. So perhaps they had different ideas on such things. It was a difficult concept to wrap his head around. Then again, he thought with a puff of his pipe, humans believed such things should only be between a man and a woman. Quite different from hobbits, and dwarves apparently.

With a firm nod to himself, he agreed to not judge the young lads for their affection. It may seem strange to him but it was obviously their custom and he would respect that on this journey. Yes. That would do.

He had little time to actually think on the matter, what with troll fights, orc chases, and finally elves coming to their rescue. Even in Rivendell he thought little on the matter, instead enjoying the comforts of a bed and good meal in his stomach. Green though it may be. He quite enjoyed the vegetable based food, dwarvish opinions be bothered. The mushrooms were particularly good.

So after a meal that quickly turned into a food fight he found himself settled amongst the others, sharing a bit of pipe smoke with Gloin and Balin. A marvelous way to spend the evening, he found.

“That was certainly clever thinking back there, Mister Baggins,” Balin complimented between puffs. “Not many dwarves, certainly none in this group, would think of using wit to outmaneuver trolls.”

Bilbo ducked his head in a modest display.

“Well, I’m certainly not as strong as the rest of you. It was a fond saying of my grandfather: a strong man is one who can stop an argument with a single word. I’m not sure he meant trolls, but he was right,” he replied.

Gloin laughed heartily at that.

“Certainly a hobbit saying! But fitting for such a clever people,” he laughed, reaching out and pinching his ear lobe. Bilbo squawked, leaping up and away from his spot beside them.

“I-I..that is to say, y-you…I have to go,” he stammered, turning quickly about and running far away. He ignored the confused and concerned calls from the rest of the Company. Luckily for him none of them seemed to follow him.

He stopped when he reached an empty balcony, taking deep lungs full of fresh night air. That had certainly been a surprise.

Gently he reached up to cup his ear, soothing away the phantom sensation of fingers. It had been many years since another person had touched his ears like that, and for Gloin, a _married_ _dwarf_ , to do so with Balin beside him and the rest of the Company nearby was just scandalous! He may have more Took in him then he originally thought, but it was simply too much.

“Dwarvish customs,” he concluded, quite firmly. “Many cultures from the east practice polyamorous relations, Gloin is from Erebor, Erebor is in the east. Yes. That’s it.”

It really made perfect sense. It was a simple misunderstanding, and tomorrow he would speak with him. He was flattered, but would decline. Hobbits loved freely, but only one person every truly held their heart. Gloin was not that person for him. He brushed off the sudden image of blue eyes and dark hair that flashed through his mind.

Comforted in his conclusion, he turned to head back to their designated sleeping quarters. Tomorrow he would fix all this.

Or not.

Between stone giants, Thorin’s cruel words, the goblins, the sickly creature in the dark, and then the orcs he hadn’t the time to sit Gloin down and discuss what occurred between them. Then they were flying, on the backs of eagles! And Thorin was hurt, unconscious until Gandalf saw to him. It was all such a mess.

But then he was hugging him. Thorin was hugging him, Bilbo, who had never once hit another hobbit but willingly faced down Azog to protect another. To protect Thorin.

And then he was reaching up to cup his face, blunt and strong fingers gently caressing the shell of his ear. He felt his knees go weak at the sensation, struggling to hold him up.

“Forgive me,” Thorin whispered, gently pressing their foreheads together.

Bilbo mutely nodded, not quite able to form words with the fingers still as his ear. Thorin pulled back with a grin.

“You are far braver than I could ever have imagined and for your actions will always have the loyalty from the Line of Durin.”

The hobbit was sure these words of some great importance, if he were to judge by the cheers from those around them. He didn’t get the chance to really wonder at this, much like everything else on this journey. Because when he opened his mouth to thank Thorin, and perhaps give him meaningful words in return, the dwarf reared his head back and slammed his head into his own.

As Bilbo fell into the black of unconsciousness he couldn’t help but wonder at the many differences between dwarves and hobbits. This was one of the more painful ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much written for this, that I had to split it up. So tomorrow you might get a part 2! We'll see. :) As always, hope you enjoyed reading. If you have any suggestions please let me know, love to hear them. Thanks!


	7. Bilbo/Thorin Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are made clear. And then it gets confusing again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of yesterdays story. Enjoy!  
> Quick note: both "dwarves" and "dwarrow" are used here. Mainly because Bilbo and Gandalf use the common term, but the dwarves use their own people's term when referring to more than one dwarf.

He woke surrounded by dwarves. Thirty of them. Which was confusing because they started this journey with just thirteen.

With an achy groan he attempted to sit up and address the issue at hand, but couldn’t make it past his elbows. The world tilted on its side and suddenly thirty dwarves became thirteen and then thirty again. It was a neat trick.

“Lay still, Bilbo. I’m afraid you may be feeling a bit ill for awhile yet,” a familiar voice comforted and then he was being gently pushed back to the ground.

Wincing, he looked at the hand on his person and followed it back to its body. Gandalf smiled amusedly at him. At least, one of him did. The other may have been scowling. He couldn’t quite tell with all his moving about.

“What in the world happened? I feel like I was hit by an oliphant made of iron.”

The dwarves (now just thirteen, thank Yavanna!) chuckled around him. Most of them. Thorin looked like he had sucked on something sour while simultaneously sitting beneath a storm cloud. Not his best look.

“Uncle thanked you for standing against Azog to protect him,” Fili smirked.

“And you fell like a sack of potatoes,” Kili laughed, his own smile wide and cheeky.

And then Bilbo remembered. Thorin’s apology, the hug, the subsequent ear caress (he shuddered a bit at the memory), his words after, and then the heat butt. Why, oh why did he need to add the head butt?

“If that’s how you lot thank others, I would hate to see you angry,” he muttered, reaching to touch his forehead. Already h felt a large welt there and by the gods it hurt.

“Hobbits don’t band heads in solidarity,” Ori asked, wonder on his face.

Bilbo shook his head and regretted the action. It hurt too much!

“Then can we assume you standing against Azog _wasn’t_ a proposal of marriage?”

That had caught his attention.

“What?! No, of course not! How on earth could _that_ be considered a proposal? There were no flowers, no rings, I wasn’t down on bended knee. I was fighting a bloody Orc for heavens sake,” he supported indignantly.

A proposal, such ridiculousness. When (if) he ever proposed to someone it would be done properly and all parties would be very aware of what was happening. He hadn’t even met Thorin’s family, much less received their blessing.

“For dwarves it’s considered very romantic to propose on the battle field. And they rarely use flowers, like hobbits,” Gandalf cheerfully informed him, looking far too amused for this situation.

Bilbo frowned. What an odd custom.

“That would certainly explain all the…ear caressing that went on,” he muttered. Unfortunately, it was a bit too loud and the rest of the Company heard him.

“Ear caressing? What the hell is ear caressing,” Nori asked. The other dwarves seemed to be equally confused by the term. Bilbo felt all the color drain from his face only to reheat again in a violent blush.

“Y-you d-don’t caress your lover’s ear?”

“Caress an ear? Why the blazes would we do that,” Bofur guffawed.

Oh dear. This was…not good.

Before he could explain himself, Gandalf jumped in again.

“My dear dwarves, ear caressing for hobbits would be akin to stroking the back of another dwarf's knee. Quite intimate and only done with a romantic partner.”

Silence fell on the group and Bilbo watched as understanding dawned on each dwarf. The hobbit wished the earth would open and swallow him whole. He was such an idiot.

“Ahem, Master Baggins I owe you a sincere apology,” Gloin mumbled, his face as red as his beard. “I am a happily married dwarf and if I had known this…custom of your people I would have never done…that. Please accept my sincerest regrets.”

Bilbo, still laying flat on his back, raised his hands to cover his face.

“It’s quite alright, Gloin. Thank you for your apology. I gladly accept,” he replied.

“Why does Gloin owe you an apology,” Thorin growled, stepping forward.

Bilbo peeked between his fingers. He looked angry. He couldn’t deal with an angry Thorin right now, with his head pounding away.

“Gloin tweaked my ear. Misunderstanding, that’s all." 

Was it possible to faint if one blushes too hard? He was certain it was possible. He felt very close to fainting right now.

“Well, what’s done is done,” Gandalf interrupted. “Oin, please tend to Bilbo. The rest of you make camp. We’ll begin out descent in the morning.”

Reluctantly the Company did as told, with only Oin and Thorin remaining by his side. The old healer went about his business, checking his head and muttering to himself, while Thorin glared at his feet. Bilbo looked at the sky. 

If Thorin thought he proposed to him, did he also accept? Why did that thought make his heart race in his chest? He didn’t want to marry Thorin. He didn’t know Thorin. He hadn’t even courted Thorin!

There was so much that he didn’t know about dwarves and their culture, and now it was obvious that they had no idea about his own as well. They needed to clear up any misunderstandings before they continued their journey. With his luck he would compliment Dori’s tunic and start a blood feud. And he would talk to Thorin. He needed to speak with Thorin.

XxxX

By the time dinner arrived Bilbo was feeling much better. Sure, his head ached and he got dizzy if he stood up too quickly, but he was no longer seeing double and could walk in a straight line without tipping over. Seeing as they were camped on the top of a cliff (“Carrock,” Gandalf corrected) he would take it as a win.

He settled alongside his companions and happily dug into his dinner. It was nowhere near enough, what with all of their supplies scattered through Goblin town, but it was hot and he was grateful.

“Mister Bilbo,” Ori came to sit beside him, “I was wondering if you might share some customs of your people with us.”

Bilbo nodded. 

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Too many misunderstandings. And perhaps, you may share some of yours with me?”

“A good idea, laddie. Can’t have you unwittingly proposing to every dwarf you encounter,” Balin laughed. Bilbo hid his discomfort with a small smile.

“Right, first thing: hobbits don’t propose in battle. Rather it’s done after the proper courtship is observed and both families consent with their blessing.”

“Courtship? You mean you just don’t state your intent and marry?”

“Goodness, no! A proper hobbit woos their love with flowers, poems, cooked meals, dancing, and songs. It’s quite a lengthy affair, but it ensures that both parties are a good match for the other. A happy marriage is dependent on a good courtship.”

It seemed like an intriguing idea to the dwarves as they muttered amongst themselves. Bilbo frowned.

“Do dwarves do it differently,” he asked.

“My wife proposed to me in the marketplace. We married in between the spice merchant and the cloth one right after,” Bombur explained with a sappy sigh.

“Indeed! I met my wife during the Battle of Azanulbizar and proposed right there. Swung my ax clean through three orcs that surrounded her. We were married the next day,” Gloin boasted. Oin proudly thumped his brother on the back.

Bilbo felt a bit ill.

The idea of marrying someone you just met, with no idea if you shared anything in common outside of your race was terrifying. What if you weren’t a good match and fought endlessly? He asked them just that.

“Then you separate and find another,” Bofur said with a shrug. “Some dwarrow couples are married for a few days, others share children but separate after years. We understand that love doesn’t last forever.”

Bilbo felt his heart break.

“Hobbits do,” he replied. “Once we exchange vows, nothing can break us apart. Even if one dies the other will not seek another. My mother lived thirteen years after my father died but never once thought of replacing his love.”

“You love so deeply,” Thorin asked, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“We do. Like roots of a tree, it runs deep and strong.”

He thought of Thorin accepting his unwitting proposal and then how he could have rejected him later on. Perhaps the next day, maybe years later. It hurt to even think it.

“Excuse me, I think I’ll have a smoke.” He ignored the fact that he lost his pipe in Goblin Town.

He stood and walked to the edge of their camp, sitting down so his feet dangled over the edge. Bilbo ignored the quite talk behind him, to focused on his own thoughts.

He had feelings for Thorin. It was obvious now. And Thorin obviously had some sort of feelings for him, or he wouldn’t have accepted what he thought was an offer of marriage. His next move should be to find the right flower and initiate a proper courtship but this new information stopped him. Thorin and his people didn’t love for life. Separation was a common thing for them. Bilbo had never heard of any hobbits that did such a thing, though he imagined if one were to be rejected it wouldn’t be at all dissimilar to an elf fading. His mother slowly lost all vibrancy of life when his father died. If a hobbit was outright rejected, he was certain it would kill them.

 Thorin could leave him for another, but Bilbo couldn’t. If he encouraged these feelings, gently nurtured them into something more, he was gambling with his life. He didn’t want that.

So he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t look for a yellow tulip to present to Thorin and he wouldn’t pay homage to his magnificent eyes through prose. He certainly wouldn’t think about what he would say during their wedding vows, because no such wedding was happening. And he wouldn’t fall in love with Thorin. 

That lie hurt to believe, but he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's still not done! So look for part 3 tomorrow, guys.
> 
> I tried to think of something erotic that would seem absurd to another person and decided on back of the knee. Fun fact, for some people that is an erogenous zone. To others, not so much. Plus, imagine how funny it would be for your favorite fiction couple realizing that, while it works for one of them, the other isn't that into it. As always, I hope you enjoyed this. Any ideas for future stories? Let me know! Love to hear them. :)


	8. Bilbo/Thorin Pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are addressed and happy endings are reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White clover: think of me  
> Holly: hope  
> Sorrel: affection  
> Red tulips: declaration of love  
> Tansy: hostile thoughts  
> Zinnia: thoughts of absent friends  
> Hyacinth: constancy of love, fertility  
> Thyme: courage, strength  
> Lavender: devotion, virtue  
> Violet: loyalty, devotion, faithfulness  
> Tarragon: lasting interest  
> Yarrow: everlasting love  
> Fennel: flattery

The descent from the Carrock was a long and exhausting one. Oin had proclaimed Bilbo as healthy as he could be, with no signs of lasting damage or concussion. His headache was gone but he still felt the effects of vertigo if he moved too quickly. The height which they had to climb down was of no help. But climb they did, and by mid afternoon they were once again safe on the ground. Bilbo had never been so happy to see flat earth.

“Thank Yavanna,” he exclaimed, falling to his knees and reverently kissing the dirt.

“Is this another hobbit custom,” Bofur teased, offering him a hand and lifting him off the ground with ease. Bilbo laughed.

“Yes, but more of a silly superstition than anything. It’s considered bad luck not to thank The Green Lady after safely making it through a dangerous situation. I thought it best not to tempt fate, what with our current position.”

Bofur chuckled, clapping him heartily on the back.

“Dwarves have a similar practice. Knock three times on stone to ward off misfortune. Not that anyone truly believes it works, but it's a silly comfort.”

Fili and Kili rushed to join them.

“Tell us more of hobbit culture, Mister Boggins. What is this ‘courtship’ you go through to marry another,” Kili asked, slowly pronouncing the foreign word and looking quite pleased with himself at remembering it’s proper pronunciation.

The hobbit winced internally. He would rather not speak of courtship at the moment, still a bit sore for the realization that he and Thorin could never work out. He knew, however, that the two young dwarves were not only stubborn, but perceptive as well. If he refused to talk on the subject, they would know something was wrong and nettle him incessantly on the matter until he gave in. Best to choose the lesser of two evils and explain the bare idea of hobbit courtship without risking his secret feelings.

“Well,” he began, trying to think of the best way to start, “are you at all familiar with human traditions of marriage?”

The boys and Bofur nodded.

“Some marry for love, others are arranged by their families. They tie their hands in knots to symbolize their connection,” Bofur recited. “Such a silly custom.”

Bilbo smiled.

“Yes, hand fasting probably is silly to an outsider. Some human tribes don’t even do that, but hobbits do. We’re getting ahead of ourselves though. Do you know anything about how humans choose a marriage partner? Aside from the ones that are arranged by their family?”

Now the dwarves looked stumped. Bilbo gave them a moment to think. Fili was the first to tentatively answer.

“Gifts?”

Bilbo rewarded him with a smile.

“That’s right. Gifts are traditional first steps of courtship, for both humans and hobbits. For hobbits the first gifts of courtship generally revolve around flowers and plants. Each plant has a special meaning, and depending on who you give it to you would choose a different plant.

For example, a hobbit might present another a bundle of white clover. A sly way to let them know that they wish to be thought of. Or they may weave a crown of holly, sorrel, and red tulips. Quite a bold declaration of intent.”

The dwarves seemed intrigued, listening to his explanation with rapt attention.

“So it’s like a secret code! Similar to how certain gems refer to certain emotions,” Kili exclaimed.

Bilbo certainly wasn’t familiar with that concept, but it seemed to fit well enough.

“Are they only for courtship or do you use this flower language to send messages of warning? Say another hobbit besmirched your honor, would you send them something poisonous to make your intent known?”

“What?! No, of course not! Flowers are for love and affection only,” the hobbit exclaimed, flustered at the idea of such a use for flowers. It simply wasn’t done! No matter how tempting it would be to send Lobelia home with a bundle of tansy and zinnia. That would certainly offend her.

The three dwarves hardly seemed as put off with the idea of such messages as he was.

“So how would you respond to such an offer? Is there a certain flower or plant you return?”

Bilbo, still thinking on the sinister way the others thought flowers could be used, took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“N-no. Any flower may do, as long as it has the proper message.”

Kili opened his mouth to no doubt ask another question, but was stopped by Dwalin shouting for the group to move out. The young dwarf grabbed his brother and dragged him off.

“Thank you, Mister Boggins,” he called back.

“We’ll talk more with you later,” Fili added and the two hurried off to join their uncle.

Bilbo turned to Bofur.

“Why do I have a feeling that those two are scheming something that will cause me trouble?”

The miner grinned at him, hefting his mattock onto his shoulders.

“Because you would be right.”

XxxX

They traveled the rest of the day, managing to reach the beginnings of a forest by sundown.

“I have a friend who may be persuaded to help us. He lives just a half day travel east of here,” Gandalf informed them. “With the right amount of charm, we may have a safe place to recover and fresh supplies for our journey.”

It was welcome news.

“What sort of person is this friend of yours,” Thorin inquired suspiciously, their encounter with the elves of Rivendell still fresh in his mind.

Gandalf scowled at him.

“Not at all fond of dwarves and their ways, but hating orc kind even more. He is the only ally for miles yet and you would be wise to accept it.”

Thorin scowled right back, looking ready to argue against Gandalf’s plan. Balin quickly stepped in.

“It’s lucky there are any near enough to dispense aid. We sorely need it. Our rations are enough for three more days, but we’ve lost most of our canteens and water. We won’t last long without replacing them.”

Bilbo watched as Thorin reluctantly conceded the point and began to plan with his advisor and their wizard. The hobbit turned to help the others set up camp. Fili and Kili joined him.

“Mister Boggins,” they cheered, grabbing his arms and pulling him away. “We found a patch of flowers and we wish to know their meaning.”

“This is hardly the time for such things,” Bilbo protested, struggling against their hold. Unfortunately, his strength was no match to one dwarf, much less two warriors in their prime.

“Let the others make camp. We won’t be long.”

The brothers continued to tug and harass the hobbit into the woods, finally making it to the flowers they had found.

Huffing, Bilbo reluctantly stooped down and examined the blossoms. They were pretty and familiar to the hobbit, soothing the homesickness that he wasn’t aware he was carrying in his heart. Suddenly the boys’ antics were not so annoying, rather endearing. With a smile, he drew the two down beside him and began pointing out each plant in turn.

“All of these would make excellent first gifts. This one here,” he pointed to a white bundle of blossoms, “that is hyacinth. It can symbolize fertility as well as constancy of love. Next to it is thyme, a herb used in cooking but also meaning courage or strength.”

He found lavender nestled next to violets, and tarragon with yarrow. There were even a few fennels nearby. It certainly was an excellent patch to make a bouquet of intention.

“Fili, Kili.” Thorin sudden arrival startled the three from their examinations of the blooms. “Scout ahead for danger. Then return to camp.”

The boys nodded at their uncle, and after giving their burglar matching mischievous smiles, hurried to do as bid and leaving them alone.

Silence stretched between them. Both parties knew exactly what happened last night. That a proposal had (unwittingly) be offered and accepted. Neither of them had discussed anything further though.

Bilbo turned back to the flowers, hoping to distract himself from Thorin’s looming presence. The great dwarf stood awkwardly behind him.

The tension was nearly palpable, but neither of them quite knew how to break it. Thorin was the one to speak first.

“These flowers, they are important to your people?”

Bilbo, still facing away from the other, nodded.

“In terms of courtship, yes.”

Thorin made a small noise of interest. Bilbo felt him walk closer and then kneel alongside him.

“And they just need to be presented to another for interest to be known?”

The hobbit nodded. From the corner of his eye he saw watched Thorin think, brow furrowed and frown carved into his face. Only to cry in dismay as the dwarf reached forward and pulled the flowers from their bed, tearing their roots and petals in his clumsy hand.

“What did you do?!”

Thorin frowned at him, before thrusting his fist forward.

“I wish to court you in the ways of your people,” he bluntly informed, dropping the mangled flowers into his lap. Bilbo gaped at the mess of dirt and flowers that was apparently a courting gift. A courting gift? Thorin wished to court him? He looked back at the king with confusion, not quite able to form words for a proper reply. The dwarf seemed to hesitate.

“Did I do something wrong? Was there a certain way I should have given you these flowers?”

Bilbo blinked, getting ahold of himself.

“Well, usually they are cut from the ground to not cause such a mess.”

Thorin’s frown deepened and Bilbo could tell he was upset.

“These are wonderful, though! I’m just surprised, is all. Dwarves love differently than hobbits, so I’m unsure how to respond.”

“You said these flowers represent constancy in love, devotion, and lasting interest. I mean to love you, Bilbo Baggins, for all time and never seek another,” he brusquely replied.

That surprised him. Thorin had been listening as he explained the flowers to his nephews? It sent a warm feeling through his stomach at the thought. With a shy smile, he gently picked the dirt and grass out of his bundle of flowers.

Thorin wished to marry him, and only him. He was willing to forgo his own people’s customs of marriage and instead follow his. Thorin loved him.

“Well then,” Bilbo spoke, reaching out to delicately pluck a small violet from the ground. He turned and tucked it gently behind Thorin’s ear, boldly reaching out to stroke the outer shell.

“I accept your suit and happily await my next gift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done! Finally. I'm glad this one is over, it was annoying me so much. Though I will say I enjoy blunt Thorin who is also a sweetheart. Anyway, I can't wait to move on to different pairings and scenarios. :) Hope you enjoyed it. As always, let me know if you have any ideas for future stories. I love to hear them all. See you guys tomorrow.


	9. Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were whispers about them. They let it happen though. Only they knew the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely WWII AU with our favorite pair of brothers.

"Brothers. They're brothers," people would whisper, conveniently explaining away the uncomfortable feeling they got when thinking of them. They weren't wrong, but they also lied.

Fili and Kili were brothers, sharing a mother and father since Kili arrived in this world. Yet they were close, far closer than the average sibling.

"The War changed us all. Those boys went through a lot."

Another half-truth. The Durin brothers saw terrible things during The War. Humanity at its worst, things you don't forget in a hundred lifetimes. But they had been close before their enlistment, before the rise of Germany.

"They lost their father young and their mother only had her brothers to help."

Vili had died when the Fili had just entered primary school. A fire had taken their home, their livelihood, and one of their parents. Dis had been forced to move from their home in the country and move in with her brothers in the city. They hated the city.

"Their uncles had to work long hours to help raise them. Hardly ever saw them."

Thorin had always been a hard worker, putting in extra time for that extra penny. They hardly saw him before their father died, so nothing really changed. Frerin had been forced to follow, but made sure he came home every night by six o'clock to have dinner with them. Both uncles, though, always made sure they were there for Sunday dinners, every holiday, and birthday parties.

"The mother died of tuberculosis."

Dis joined her husband ten years later. The boys were now closer to men, Fili having finished school and Kili set to join him in a year. They buried her in the country, the one place she was truly happy. Neither cried at the ceremony, but that night they comforted the other in their bed. Soothed tears with caresses and aches with gentle kisses.

"Bilbo Baggins was their mentor. And he is a properly respectable man."

Bilbo had been in their life since they were children. He was a friend of Thorin's, at least that was what they told the world. The brothers knew it was more though. Bilbo and Thorin were like them. They hid it well behind their reputations of upstanding men of the community. No one thought to question it. Bilbo himself had ties to nobility, through his mother. His father had been a rags to riches businessman, a business Bilbo inherited when he died. For Fili and Kili it only made sense that they work for him.

"Both received medals for valor. Spent months in a hospital recovering."

They had been pinned outside Normandy, half their platoons dead and no sign of hope. Thorin had been with them, leading as if he were a king. Frerin had already been killed. They watched as the Nazi's overcame their uncle, and knew it was time for their last stand. They shared a quick, chaste kiss before rushing to their Uncle's aid. Their selfless act saved the company, but they paid steep prices for it.

"The younger was engaged. A fine nurse from France."

Tauriuel cared for them, patiently nurturing them back to health. She was the first outsider to know the truth and not judge. Instead the red head helped them hide from the world. They agreed she would pose as Kili's fiancée for a few years and then break it off when the war was over. She told them how her own lover, a young Jewish woman, who had been taken by the Germans when they took France. She dreamt of seeing her again, but was losing hope fast. Very few people escaped the Nazis.

"The elder was injured quite terribly. Needs his brother to help when the pain gets to be too much."

Fili almost died. A bayonet through the chest wasn't an injury that could be shrugged off. Kili had watched him fall, screaming his name until he was hoarse. Suddenly nothing mattered. Not the war, not the enemy or his allies, not even his uncle who fought nearby. Just Fili. He killed the German who had struck his brother, a bullet to his head. To this day he doesn't regret it, but he can still remember how young the boy was. Younger than he was.

"They only have each other now."

Frerin had been killed in the war. Thorin wasn't the same after. Sometimes it was as if he never left the fighting, living in a nightmare. Bilbo couldn't handle it and left for American. Being a prisoner of war changed a man and he wasn't the gentle creature they once knew anymore.

It was just them now.

"Let them whisper," Fili comforted, pressing a kiss into his brother's bare shoulder. "They can gossip but have no proof."

Kili leaned into his embrace, reaching back to card his fingers through Fili's blond hair. It was getting long, but the younger brother found that he liked it.

"I wish we didn't have to hide."

"I know."

"We could leave. Go somewhere no one knows who we are. Tell no one we're brothers. France is more understanding of our kind of relationship than those here."

Fili tightened his grip, pulling Kili flush against his naked chest.

"I don't want to live a life where you aren't my brother, no matter how much easier it is. Don't ask me to lie about that."

It would be easier. Tauriel knew places that were safe for their kind, allies to help keep their secret. But Fili was right. They were brothers and they wouldn't change that for anything.

Perhaps one day they would leave, start a new life somewhere else. Someplace they could love each other in peace, free from scorn and censor. It was a good dream to share.

For now though, they remained. And they let the world talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload. I dance hula every Saturday and we're rehearsing for a show at the end of the month. I'm so tired and sore! Here it is though, my first FilixKili story! Hope you guys like it. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and any ideas you have for future stories and pairings. :)


	10. Ori/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori wasn't normally this possessive and jealous. This was just a special occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori and Dwalin in Hogwarts! Love these two. :3

Ori glared over the top of his book at the minx that was sidling up to Dwalin. When the Triwizard Tournament was first announced he had been excited at the prospect of meeting students from other magical schools. This was a rare chance to exchange ideas and cultures with peers his own age that he didn’t share classes with nine months out of the year.

At first it had been wonderful. He loved talking with the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Both schools were so different from Hogwarts and each other that every conversation he had he learned something new. It was really quite fascinating.

Then the Yule Ball was announced and his good opinion of the other students had plummeted. Fast.

“Why don’t you say something instead of attempting to burn holes in that poor girl’s robes with your eyes alone,” Bilbo asked, smirking at his friend. Ori turned his glare on him instead.

“Dwalin is perfectly capable of rejecting a person on his own. I _won’t_ be the crazy jealous boyfriend who controls his partner’s every move,” he sniffed before returning to watch the frisky exchange between the Beauxbaton girl and his boyfriend. He was pleased to note that it was only flirtatious on one side though. Dwalin seemed more interested in his plate than the girl at his side. As it should be.

“Showing that girl that her advances are not welcome is not being a controlling boyfriend. After all, didn’t Dwalin step in just the other day when that Durmstrang boy kept bothering you?”

Ori smiled at the memory. He had spoken to the Swedish boy a few times before, sharing opinions on certain subjects that they both found interesting and discussing what the upcoming tasks for the tournament could be. If he were being honest he hadn’t been all that surprised when he then asked him to be his date for the ball. Ori may be quiet, but he wasn’t naïve. He saw his interest the first time they talked and had been very conscious of keeping things between them friendly but nothing more. Not well enough, it would seem.

After Ori said no, he hadn’t given up. He asked him again that evening and then cornered him the next morning for a third time. Dwalin intervened then, using his brute strength to toss the boy far away from him and stepping in between them.

“He said no,” he had growled, possessively wrapping an arm around Ori’s shoulder. “He’s spoken for.”

The older Gryffindor that then dragged him off to an empty classroom to make sure he was alright. Ori shivered when he remembered how _thorough_ Dwalin had been.

“Gross,” Bilbo dryly observed, correctly guessing what exactly had his friend quivering. The Ravenclaw shrugged his shoulders, not at all apologetic.

“I’ve caught you and Thorin doing worse. Need I remind you of the incident in the Prefect’s bathroom?”

Bilbo grinned and tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“Fair enough. Back to the matter at hand though. What are you going to do about that?”

He glanced back at his boyfriend, fuming when he saw the girl was sitting even closer and practically draped across his arm.

“Harpy,” he snarled, reaching for his wand. Nori had taught him a few spell that would send her running and right now he was sorely tempted to use one of them.

“Easy, tiger,” Bilbo soothed, reaching out to grab his wrist before he could go through with a hex. “You aren’t a bullheaded Gryffindor. Use those big brains of yours. Surely you can think of something that will put her in her place without losing us house points.”

Ori thought on it. Then an idea came to mind. With a devious grin he gathered his books and began making his way across the hall. He stopped just behind Dwalin and the girl.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, smiling shyly at the two. Dwalin loved it when he acted shy.

“ _Oui_ ,” the girl asked, staring at him with disdain. He kept his polite smile in place.

“I was just wondering if I could speak with Mister Dwalin?”

That caught the Gryffindor’s attention. Kinky bastard.

“Aye, lad?”

Ori inwardly crowed at spark he saw in his boyfriend’s eye. He had his attention and interest. This girl had no idea what she was doing.

“I was just hoping you could help me carry my books to class. It’s just, they’re so heavy and I know you have charms while I have transfiguration. Perhaps we could walk together?”

He asked this all in a quiet voice, biting his lip and peeking at him from beneath his bands. Dwalin audibly swallowed.

“Aye. I think I can do that.”

Ori grinned, letting it shine brightly on his face.

“Oh, thank you, Mister Dwalin,” he gushed and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Keeping up with the act, he hurriedly leaned back and looked down at his feet. From the corner of his eye he saw the French girl watching him with disbelief.

“I’ll wait for you at the Entrance Hall.”

With one last shy smile he walked away, winking at Bilbo who gave him a thumbs up. He hadn’t even made it all the way out of the Great Hall when he felt Dwalin rushing to catch up with him.

The Gryffindor reached around him, as if reaching to grab his books but really leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Just wait until I get you alone,” he promised. Ori grinned mischievously at him.

“There are a few empty classrooms between here and the Charms corridor. Perhaps we can make use of them?”

Dwalin growled in agreement, pulling his smaller boyfriend flush against his side. Ori giggled, pleased with the reaction.

He took one last look at the Beauxbaton girl and shot her a triumphant smirk. He savored her disgruntled look of defeat.

Dwalin was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started off as another "beginning of something" story, with Dwalin struggling with his Ancient Runes homework and Ori tutoring him and then they fall in love, bla bla bla. But I wanted something with an already established relationship. So I got this. Hope you all enjoyed it! As always, if you have any ideas for future stories or specific pairs please let me know. I love to hear them!


	11. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili was an attractive man. Sigrid had no patience for arrogance. Bonus points for anyone who can pick out the movie quote! ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Sigrid in a cafe! Seriously, love these two.

Fili knew he was an attractive man. That wasn't vanity or ego talking either, just plain and simple fact. His mother was gorgeous, his father had been ridiculously handsome, and he had inherited those genes. With his blond hair that he kept long and casually thrown up in braids and buns, and his stunning blue eyes (will make no mention of his fit physique, because why state the obvious) he was a definite catch. Add that to the fact that he came from a wealthy family and was utterly charming, it made perfect sense that any woman would want to have him.

At least, that was what he thought. Until the faithful day he met Sigrid Bowman, eldest daughter of Bard Bowman, and employee of Bag End Cafe and his whole belief was turned on its head.

It was a Tuesday afternoon and he had just finished a meeting with his Uncle concerning their upcoming Oktoberfest brew and shipment. The young man had everything planned out for weeks now, but his uncle insisted on going through everything a second and third time to insure that everything would go as planned. He was a bit of a paranoid bastard, but Fili loved him regardless.

With nothing left planned for the day he thought it the perfect time to visit (bother) his favorite uncle by marriage and perhaps snag a coffee and pastry free of charge as well. So off his went, a swagger in his step and a smirk on his lips, unaware at the change his life was about to take.

He arrived shortly after the lunch hour, so Bag End was now more on the empty side then the crowded one. This suited him fine, as it meant he could harass Bilbo with out any real danger of getting in trouble or scolded.

Confidently he walked to the bar, sitting himself on "his" stool and waited for his uncle to arrive. Imagine his surprise when instead of his short, chubby uncle, a tall and beautiful woman he had never seen came to take his order.

"Welcome to Bag End, how may I help you," she asked with a pleasant smile.

He blinked at her for a moment, before his natural instincts took over. He allowed his own face to form into a charming smile and leaned forward a bit.

"Well," he began, quickly glancing at her name tag to know who it was he was talking to, "Sigrid. How about I start with a cafe Americano, chocolate croissant, and your number and we'll see how it goes from there."

Yes, he was laying the charm on rather thickly, but she was beautiful. He watched as his words registered with her, but frowned when they had little to no effect.

Instead she continued to smile pleasantly and replied: "I'm sorry, sir, we aren't currently donating to charity. I'll have your coffee and pastry for you in a moment."

With that she walked off, never losing her courteous smile, but her words cut deep. It was a rare occasion for Fili to be outright rejected, and never with such ease and deadly precision.

Frowning, he quickly glanced into the mirror behind the counter to assure himself that there wasn't anything on his face that would put her off, no spinach from lunch stuck in his teeth. Nothing.

She quickly returned with his order, placing it on the counter instead of handing it to him directly.

"That will be $8.95," she explained, already opening the register to take his payment.

Seeing his chance, he quickly pulled out his wallet and fished out a twenty dollar bill and handed it over.

"Keep the change, sweetheart. If only because you made my day with your stunning beauty," he flirted, ending with a wink.

She took the bill and placed it in the register but quickly counted out his change.

"You get back $11.05. Maybe you can use that to buy yourself some proper manners."

Once more she turned about and left him, retreating into the kitchen.

Fili knew he looked a fool at the moment, his mouth open in surprise and eyes staring down the path the girl retreated on. But, like mentioned before, he hardly ever face rejection, in any form, and this one had knocked him silly.

He didn't know how long he sat there, gaping like an idiot, but it wasn't until her felt two fingers firmly push his jaw shut that he came to. Confused, he looked down to see Bilbo smirking at him.

"Oh my. Met Sigrid, did you," he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Fili dumbly nodded, trying to process all that just happened. He still couldn't quite believe it. He told Bilbo just that.

"I don't understand! I was charming, smooth, and I'm wearing my green shirt today. I look fantastic in green!"

Bilbo scoffed at his humility.

"My poor nephew! How will you ever recover from such a thing," he mocked, not feeling at all sorry for the young man.

He loved his nephew, but he wasn't blind to his faults and as a Durin he had many. Arrogance was just one of the most commonly inherited.

"Tell me, Bilbo. What did I do wrong?"

The short man sighed, giving the taller man a small pat on the arm.

"I have no doubt your pick up technique was flawless and well-executed. It's simply the fact that you are not Sigrid's type."

"I'm everyone's type!"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. He often wondered what compelled him to marry into a family of narcissist. A quick image of stunning blue eyes and a gentle smirk flashed through his minds eye. Oh right, that's why.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Fili. The chances of a relationship between you and Miss Sigrid are not promising. You two are of a completely different caliber."

Fili frowned, giving the other man a watered down version of the Durin glare.

"Uncle, just because she doesn't come from wealth doesn't mean she's not important."

Bilbo smirked at him, leaning forward to pat his cheek.

"The higher caliber I was referring to, nephew, was hers."

With a final pat he walked off, ready to serve another customer and leaving his nephew to ponder his words alone.

From the corner of his eye Bilbo saw Fili suddenly straighten his shoulders, grab his purchases, and leave the cafe with a determined stride. His smirk softened into a fond and gentle smile. He had no doubt that he would be back again later, and hopefully with a better understanding of what he said.

He loved the young man, often seeing bits of his husband in his demeanor, and did think Sigrid to be a good match for him despite saying otherwise. She would have no trouble knocking him down a peg or two, as all Durin men must be before settling down, and could easily be his equal.

He would just have to wait and see how things played out. With a exasperated, but fond shake of his head he moved on to the next customer, putting his nephew from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I've had half-completed for awhile. Thought now was the perfect time to finish it. I love flirty Fili and not-impressed Sigrid! :) 
> 
> As always, if you have any ideas for future stories or pairings please let me know. I love hearing them!


	12. Fili/Sigrid Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrid was a sensible woman, but Fili made her feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By request, a continuation of yesterday's story. This time from Sigrid's point of view. Enjoy!

Sigrid was a sensible woman. She always had been. With the death of her mother at an early age it just amplified her natural personality. Bain had just been a little boy and Tilda a baby. Her da did his best to keep them together as a family, but the hours he needed to keep to make ends meet made it hard. Sigrid stepped up without complaint, making meals, cleaning the house, and helping her siblings live a normal life. Was it hard? Absolutely, but worth it in the end.

Working in Bag End had been a godsend. Not only did she get a better salary than when she worked at The Masters, a seedy bed and breakfast at the edge of town, there was no grabby manager who enjoyed leering at her as she worked. Bilbo was a fair boss, far different from Alfrid Lickspittle. He understood the demands that came with raising kids, having a nephew in grade school himself, and was willing to work around her schedule. He also encouraged her to keep up with her education, helping her take night courses at the local community college with plans on transferring to a nearby university when the time was right. There was a downside, though, and it came in the guise of Bilbo's eldest nephew by marriage.

Ever since her first encounter with Fili Durin he had been a thorn in her side, subtly scratching at her with every move. At first she did her best to ignore him, falling back on her years of experience in customer service to keep a polite, but distant interaction between them. He was annoyingly insistent though, keeping up an inane amount of chatter with her while he was there and often staying long after he finished whatever drink he ordered. It got to the point that she gave up presences and snarked back at every flirty comment and returned every charming smile with a stern frown. Bilbo found the whole thing rather amusing.

"Good morning, dear Sigrid."

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

With a sigh, she turned to the stools that she had long ago labeled as "his" and gave him an unamused look.

"Aren't you going to be late for work," she asked, already prepping the machine to make him his drink.

"And how do you know my schedule? Sigrid, are you thinking of me when I'm not here," he flirted, a cheesy grin on his face. She snorted.

"Hardly. But seeing as it's half past nine and you frequently enjoy telling me about your job as a big boss in the brewery, I can only assume you work 9-5 like most people. As it's the middle of the work week that means you are missing work," she replied.

Fili's eyes lit up.

"You have been listening to me!"

That's what he got out of that? That she sometimes listened while he chattered away? He was hopeless.

"You didn't answer my question."

She watched him shrug, a picture of nonchalance.

"Took the day off. We've been crazy busy these last few weeks and I needed a day to take a breather."

Now that he mentioned it Sigrid noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes and the weary set of his shoulders. It was a look she recognized in her da, speaking of hard days and long nights. Without a word she began prepping his drink, not waiting for an actual order but going on instinct instead.

"Here," she handed him the chamomile blend and a blueberry muffin. "This will perk you up."

For a moment he looked surprised, but quickly recovered with a slow grin.

"I knew you cared," he softly teased, but gratefully took a long pull of the drink before starting on the muffin.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Can't have you passing out on the counter. You'll scare the customers away."

He winked cheekily at her, but didn't reply. An easy silence fell between them.

As she cleaned up the counter, she couldn't help but think how comfortable things were between them. Yes, he annoyed her, but he was far better than the arrogant git he had been when they first met. Sometimes she even enjoyed his company. Not that she would ever admit that unless under severe torture. Maybe not even then.

The bell above the door tinkled, alerting her to the next customer. Plastering on an easy smile, she turned to greet them.

"Welcome to Bag End. How may I help you?"  
  
The smile faltered on her face at the sight of her former manager, Alfrid, looking just as greasy and rat like as the last time she she saw him.

"Well, well, well," the older man drawled with a nasty grin, edging up to the counter. "If it isn't Bard's lovely daughter. Is this where you've been hiding away? Some shit-hole cafe?"

Sigrid stiffened, willing herself to hold her tongue. Bilbo wouldn't appreciate her losing her temper, even if he knew how vile Alfrid could be. From the corner of her eye she noticed Fili tense as well.

"I haven't been hiding, just avoiding you. Now, is there something you wish to order?"

The greasy man frowned at her, obviously angry at her response.

"What yourself, girl," he growled, stalking forward. "I'm an important man in these parts. Best show me some respect or you'll regret it."

As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn't wrong. Alfrid was a trusted man of Laketown's corrupt and greedy mayor, using that influence to get away with a lot of things. However, they weren't in Laketown and his power here was much less. She was very tempted to exploit this fact, remembering all the times Alfrid's wandering hands groped her. Her sensible nature won out, however, and she ignored him.

Fili did not.

"That's no way to treat a lady," he growled, standing from his stool and confronting the other man.

He had a good few inches on the dark haired man and considerably more muscle. A smarter man would have backed down, but Alfrid had never once been accused of being smart.

Still thinking he had the upper hand, the weasel pushed back.

"I'll talk to her however I like. She knows better than to deny me," he boasted, arrogantly reaching across the counter to grab her arm. Wrong move.

Fili grabbed his shirt collar with a snarl and threw him towards the door.

"Touch her again and I'll rip your arms off," he warned. "Now get out of here before I really lose my temper."

Alfrid, shocked at someone standing up to him but still a coward at heart, backed off with an angry glare.

"Wrong move, boy! The Mayor won't stand for this disrespect. You'll pay dearly for this," he warned, edging to the door. Fili was hardly intimidated.

"Go ahead, and tell your master the Durin's won't stand for any of his abuse."

The other man rushed out the door, throwing curses back at them as he fled. Only when he was gone did Fili turn away from the door.

"Are you alright," he asked, walking around and behind the counter to make sure she wasn't hurt.

"I'm fine," she reassured, rubbing at the spot on her arm that Alfrid had touched. She could still feel his hand.

Fili frowned at the movement, reaching up to cover her hand with his and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Has he done this before?"

Sigrid nodded.

"It was one of the reasons I left my last job and came to work here. He has always been too familiar with his workers."

It was an honest answer, but apparently one Fili didn't like. He glared at the door, as if daring Alfrid to return so he could give him a proper thrashing. She had never seen him so angry before, used to his cheeky and mischievous ways. She found herself liking this protective side of him.

"He won't be back for awhile, if ever. He'll run off to lick his wounds, make a racket to anyone who will listen, but ultimately do nothing but blow hot air. The Mayor has little influence here in Dale," she reassured.

Fili grunted, still on edge.

"I hate to think next time you'll be alone. No doubt you can handle yourself, but you shouldn't have to deal with that sort of thing."

Sigrid bit her lip, debating on what she should do. Logically she knew Alfrid wouldn't bother her again, not for awhile. A small part of her though was worried.

"My shift ends at three. Maybe you can pick me up and walk me home," she offered. Fili turned to look at her with wide eyes. "Just in case he comes back. Safety in numbers," she quickly explained, a blush dusting her face.

The blond man softly smiled at her, his hand still covering her own. She felt his thumb gently caress her.

"I can do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I can't get enough of these two! This is just one of many stories I have of them. They are just so much fun to write! I hope you guys liked this as much as I liked writing it.
> 
> As always, if you have any ideas for future stories or pairings let me know. I love hearing them! Thanks for reading. :)


	13. Bofur & Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori didn't care what the job was, as long as it paid well. This one paid well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first non-romantic story, starring Nori and Bofur. Enjoy!

Nori was good at his job. Very good, in fact. For a large sum of money he could steal your ex-spouses precious dog or make a business rival disappear, he really didn't care what it was or who it involved. His only rule was that no kids could be hurt. Anything else was fair game. 

So when a client contacted him to kidnap, and possibly end, a no name construction worker he didn't hesitate to accept. The first payment helped put his brother through school and the second one would ensure a good internship for him over the summer holidays. Money ran this world and Ori deserved the world. Simple as that.

He spent the first week learning all that he could on his target, a man named Bofur Burke. Mid-30's, single with a younger brother and an older cousin, a cousin who had a debilitating war injury that he cared for. Smart, with a degree in engineering, but chose to work for a construction company for the benefits. He enjoys going to the local pub with workmates on Fridays, volunteers at a soup kitchen on Saturdays, and on Sundays has lunch with his brother to help plan for his upcoming wedding. Described as cheery, funny, and without a bad bone in his body, Bofur Burke was an all around good man. And for some reason, someone else wanted him out of the picture. Nori didn't ask.

The second week he spent tailing him, intimately learning his schedule. He watched him clock in to his job site every morning at 9:02, take his lunch at 12:30, and then clock back out at a quarter past five. If it was a Monday he took the tube to and from work, but every other day of the work week he rode an old, but lovingly cared for bicycle. Nori sat in the corner of the local pub, watching as he drank pint after pint, favoring Guinness over all else. After four drinks he would pop outside for a smoke, return for one more, then head home for the evening. Home for him was a small flat above a tiny toy shop, run by his brother and all toys made by his cousin. Like clockwork he lead his life, a smile on his face and a ridiculous hat on his head.

It was during the third week that Nori made his move. His research told him that every Wednesday his cousin Bifur would spend the night with his younger brother Bombur, giving Nori the perfect opportunity to grab his target and get away before anyone noticed what had happened. He timed everything perfectly.

At exactly 5:28 PM Bofur rode down the street. At 5:29 PM he noticed Nori, who stood by his car, hood raised as if something was wrong. Being the good man that he was, Bofur stopped to help.

"Car trouble, mate," he asked with a smile. Nori grimaced good-naturedly and nodded.

"I have no idea what happened," he lied, wildly gesturing at the car. "It just sputtered and conked out."

"Bad luck, that. Good luck that I happened to ride by. Can I have a look? I'm pretty handy with these types of things," he offered with a wink. Nori grinned, stepping aside.

"Please, be my guest. If you can tell me what's wrong I might save a fortune from a mechanic."

With a cheery whistle Bofur leaned over the hood, pushing his hat back to get a better look. Nori stood close behind him, under the guise of watching him work. He fingered the syringe in his pocket.

"Don't know what to tell ya, mate. Everything looks fine."

Nori smirked.

"I know."

He stabbed the needle deep into his neck. Within seconds the drugs took effect and he was gone, unconscious to the world.

The ginger mercenary grabbed him before he hit the ground, dragging him around to place him in the boot of his car. A quick look up and down the street confirmed that no one saw what occurred. With a chuckle he closed his car hood and got in, starting the engine. He drove away, not leaving a single trace that he was ever there.

XxxX

Bofur woke tied to a chair and with a headache that rivaled the one he once had after a crazy night drinking turned into three days of complete drunkenness. He wasn't particularly worried. It wasn't the first time he woke up bound with rope. In fact, the last time that happened it had quite the lovely ending for him. He lazily smiled at the memory of that blond waitress. What a minx!

He blinked a few times, willing the room to come into focus. After a few tries the haze lifted, revealing that he was in a kitchen of sorts with terrible lighting and that he wasn't alone. No, the ginger man whose car had broken down was seated opposite him. Bofur noted that he wasn't tied to a chair.

"Morning," he greeted, his words slurred but still understandable.

"How do you know it's morning? Could be midday for all you know," the other man replied lazily, twirling a knife in his hands.

Bofur shrugged, subtly testing the ropes that bound him. Tight and expertly tied. He wouldn't be going anywhere soon.

"It was a guess. And an icebreaker. Why am I tied to a chair? Not that I'm complaining. It's a very comfy chair."

The man smirked at him and mimicked his earlier shrug.

"Someone paid me a pretty penny to grab you. You're tied to the chair because we're waiting on the final word of what's to be done. Am I to let you go or do I have to kill you?"

Bofur nodded.

"Fair enough. Can I ask who set the hit on me? I didn't even realize I had enemies."

Again, the other man shrugged.

"Never met them in person, and only spoke with them over the phone once."

Bofur grinned, leaning forward with a wink.

"Come on! Clever guy like you has to know who he's working for. I bet you tracked them down the minute you made contact. Got their family history and everything, right down to where their great granny is buried."

The ginger gave a gracious nod of his head, not denying Bofur's claim.

"It's a woman. Margaret Lane, early 40's from Devonshire. Blonde with brown eyes, heavy set."

Bofur hummed. He didn't recognize the name or the description. He preferred redheads. He told the man as much.

"Doesn't really matter if you know them or not. She's paid me to grab you, so I did."

The construction worked couldn't argue that logic. A part of him wondered if he should be panicking. After all, he could die any time now and not know why. Most people panicked at this point.

Bofur wasn't most people.

"What's your name than," he asked, his words polite and interested.

"Nori."

Bofur liked that.

"What got you in this business, Nori? Family trade?"

The hit man shook his his head.

"Not really. Didn't know my dad and my mom was a seamstress who worked nights. I have a little brother though, who wants to go to university to get a degree. He's a smart lad, but it's not easy paying for his schooling."

Bofur could understand that. He was in a similar boat with Bifur.

"You know," he began, watching Nori flip his knife, "if you ever want to go straight, I know a guy who could use someone with your skills. Runs a big business that is always being targeted by rivals. I bet your expertise could make sure nothing happens to him."

Nori stopped flipping his knife.

"I very well may be the guy who kills you. Why are you offering me a possible job?"

"Why not? Everyone deserves a second chance and so far you haven't killed me. Plus, if you work for my friend you get his companies benefits, which include private school tuition. That's a win."

The ginger narrowed his eyes, obviously suspicious.

"What's the catch?"

Bofur gestured as best as he could to the ropes that tied him.

"Untie me, give the name of your client to my friend, and don't kill me. They'll deal with her, you'll have a new job, and I can go back to work like nothing ever happened."

It was an honest answer, one he knew Nori believed. All that mattered now was whether or not he accepted. He gave the hit man a few moments to think, cheerfully humming beneath his breath as he waited.

A phone buzzed and Bofur watched Nori fish it out of his pocket and read the screen.

"That from dear Margaret? Has she decided my fate?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Nori glanced up at him.

"She wants you dead," he replied, but didn't move. Bofur took that as a good sign. He had to be sure though.

"So are you going to kill me?"

Nori rose from his seat, knife in hand, and approached him. The construction worked grinned up at him, the hit man grinned down.

"Yes."

He felt the knife sink deep within his neck and his last breath escape. Bofur died without a sound.

XxxX

Nori dumped the body into a river, hands and feet encased in cement. No one would find him and Nori would never be caught.

As mentioned before. He was very good at his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Please don't hate me. This started out as a "Bofur convinces Nori to let him go" kind of thing, but I was watching Sherlock while writing this and suddenly Bofur was dead. Plus, what's better for my first non-romantic story than murder?
> 
> As always, if you have any ideas for future stories or pairings please let me know. I love hearing them all!


	14. Dwalin & Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a prince wasn't easy, being the younger of two is even harder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Kili as mentor and student is the best!

Dwalin found Kili in the first place he looked, a pub at the edge of the city that was popular with humans. It was certainly the last place Thorin would look for his nephew, but Dwalin now knew the young dwarf better then his own kin. Being away for twenty years will do that.

The great warrior settled himself beside the young prince, gesturing to the barkeep for an ale. He made no move to speak, knowing Kili would talk when he was ready.

Halfway into his drink the boy did just that.

"How can he come back here and think he could order me about, tell me how to act and behave? I am a grown dwarf and may do as I please. He has no right to control me," he snarled, glaring into his own mug. Dwalin couldn't help but smirk at him. He was so much like his uncle, stubborn and protective over his freedom. If only he knew.

"He is your king and uncle," Dwalin reasoned.

"A king and uncle who took my brother and left me behind!"

"A duty he had to do. He wished he could have taken you along but you were too young."

"Does he think I would have waited anxiously for their return and simply picked up where we left off? I'm not a child anymore, trailing after him like a puppy. I have my own duties and responsibilities to attend to."

Dwalin nodded, agreeing with him. Kili, though young, had grown into an adult. And with Thorin and Fili gone these past decades the dwarves of the Blue Mountains looked to Dis and later Kili for guidance. He had shown a great aptitude for leadership, another thing he inherited from his uncle. Still he tried to reason with him.

"Thorin is used to being followed without question. Similar to how you are now followed without question. From a very young age, younger then you are now, he has had to be a strong leader to our people. It's not a habit easily broken, even amongst kin."

Kili slumped forward and nodded dejectedly. He turned to his teacher with the saddest eyes the dwarf had seen.

"But must he be so cruel?"

Dwalin sighed and placed a large hand comfortingly on his back.

"No. He was out of line with his words, something your mother will sure to scold him for. Possibly with her broom."

That brought a small smile to the young dwarf's face. He turned back to his drink with a thoughtful look on his face. Dwalin let him think, knowing he would come to some sort of conclusion soon.

"I guess I should go back, make amends with uncle," he spoke, a frown on his face.

Dwalin nodded.

"That would be a good idea, though I trust you won't let him get away with what he's done."

Kili gave a half-smile.

"No. I said I would make amends, not apologize and grovel. We were both wrong."

Dwalin smirked, a proud look on his face.

"You are stubborn like your uncle, but you have a more level head then he did at your age. No doubt inherited from your father."

Kili looked pleased. He finished off his drink and stood, shoulders back and head held high with pride. He struck an impressive figure. Dwalin stood with him.

"Best get on with it. Don't want to face mother if I wait any longer," the prince joked, but had a slight look of real fear in his eyes. The older dwarf laughed heartily at his comment, clapping his on the back.

"You would be a fool not to! She is a fearsome dwarrow."

Kili laughed along in agreement. He paid the barkeep, nodding in thanks, and lead the way out of the bar. Dwalin followed behind, a few steps back and to his left. After all, Kili was a prince. It was only proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of a bigger story idea I don't think I'll complete. I love the idea of Fili being taken under Thorin's wing to learn how to be a king, but Kili getting left behind and Dwalin stepping into mentor him.
> 
> As always, if you have any ideas for future stories or pairings let me know. I love to hear them!


	15. Kili/Tauriel Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili has seen many heroes die when faced against Smaug. Tauriel wasn't one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili and Tauriel in a classic fairytale setting, but with roles reversed. :)

Kili had seen many would be heroes die, each one so certain that they would be the one to rescue him from his most terrible fate. He had also been so hopeful, at least for the first few attempts. However, after watching knight after knight being burned alive in their shiny armor he had learned to keep a firm hold on hope. It was too crushing when it was taken from him.

"Don't you ever grow bored of just burning them," he asked his captor one day, morbidly curious. He nudged the crispy corpse of his would be savior with his foot, long since desensitized to the smell and look of burnt flesh. This one had managed to make it past the entry hall before Smaug dealt with him.

The great dragon rumbled in what Kili recognized as the verbal equivalent of a shrug.

"Why should I? My fire is most impressive and it is a kindness to kill them so quickly," he replied, leaning down to gobble the knight up. Kili looked away.

"It would be a kindness to let them live."

Smaug chuckled, a horrifyingly grating and bone chilling sound.

"And let them escape with you, sweet prince? I do not think so. You are my treasure and I will not part with a single piece."

Kili frowned, glaring mightily at his captor.

"I look forward to the day you die, Smaug.  
I hope it is painful."

The dragon flashed him a toothy smile.

"I shall outlive you, princeling," he taunted, blowing smoke into his face. The dark haired man coughed but didn't back away.

"Not according to the prophecy! You'll be slain by one cloaked in fire and all your treasure shall be theirs."

Smaug roared in fury, rearing back on his legs and whipping his wings about.

"I am fire and death! None shall ever kill me. Now, begone! Or I shall eat you as well," he hissed, snapping his great jaws.

Kili mockingly bowed and walked off, eager to put distance between him and the dragon. Smaug wouldn't really kill him, at least not intentionally. He was far too valuable, his leverage against his Uncle's kingdom. With him alive and in his custody Thorin couldn't send an army after Smaug to kill him. A few knights the dragon could handle, but a great army with trained dragon killers? He wouldn't risk it. So Kili was allowed to live. Accidents did happen though, and one wrong step on an enormous paw and the prince was done for. Best to keep away when he was in a rampage like this.

He made it to his rooms, his only sanctuary in his prison. In a castle larger enough to house a dragon, these rooms were too small for Smaug to ever invade and too far to hear his angry roar. A single window looked out into the great world beyond, a comfort and torture to see in his exile. He could watch the sunset but never feel the grass on his feet or discover what lay beyond the tree line. Beside it was a great expanse of wall covered in meticulously carved scratches, each a mark for everyday he was captive here, nearly five thousand in total.

A glance out his window told him another day had ended, so another mark was carved. With a sigh, he fell into his bed, wrapping himself in the pillows and furs.

Tomorrow, he thought as he drifted off to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow things would get better.

XxxX

People had warned her about Smaug the Terrible. Told her that every knight who went against him was never seen again, no doubt dead and eaten. She needed their warnings with the proper amount to caution, but ultimately ignored them. After all, those knights had faced Smaug to rescue the captive prince. Tauriel, however, had no interest in such things.

People were fond of telling stories of the great dragon and the poor prince of Erebor. They were equally as fond of speculating the great stole treasure that was within. That was her goal. If she did it all without meeting the dragon or the prince it would be all the better. So, armed with only her bow, duel long knives, and a bag that was both large and sturdy she snuck into the castle.

It was dark, not that she expected it to be lit with a thousand torches. A dragon, she imagined, had no use for such things and the prince, where he was (if he was even alive) was probably asleep. Keeping low, Tauriel silently padded down the hall, cautious of every noise she made and those she didn't. It wouldn't do to have a dragon sneak up on her.

Further and further in she traveled, mentally keeping track of every twist and turn she took. At last she made it to what seemed to be a ballroom of sorts. Large and impressive, she took only a moment to survey the area. The only gold insight seemed to be in the paint on the walls. Even than, she thought as she scratched at it with her finger and inspected the flakes, it was fake.

With a small sigh she turned, ready to continue on, but stopped. There, at the doorway, was a figure. Not just any figure either. The prince.

"Who are you," he asked in a whisper, eyes wide and curious.

"Tauriel."

The prince mouthed her name, smiling slightly as if pleased the way it fit in his mouth.

"Did my uncle send you? Are you here to rescue me, Tauriel?"

She frowned at him, cursing her luck. She specifically chose this time at night to avoid this kind of situation. The plan was to be in and out, gone long before the sun rose. It was a plan she was sticking to.

"No, I haven't."

Tauriel made to walk past him, but was stopped when he grabbed her arm. Wide and beseeching eyes glanced up at her.

"Please, take me with you. You managed to sneak in here without Smaug knowing. If we leave now we can get past him again," he begged, holding her tight. "My Uncle is a king and would reward you greatly!"

She wretched her arm out of his grip.

"Smaug will only find you again and then kill me. Go back to bed, prince. I am not your savior."

She started back out the hall, now determined to finish her hunt faster so she could leave, but the prince stopped her again.

"I could shout. Wake up Smaug and then you will surely die," he threatened, moving to stand in front of her. Tauriel knew he wasn't bluffing. His face was one of determination and stubbornness.

"I could silence you," she replied, unsheathing one of her knives. The Ereborian eyed it wearily but didn't back down.

"Take me with you and you will be rich beyond your wildest dreams. Leave me and I shall let the dragon eat you, just as he has eaten every other unwelcome visitor."

She had no choice. Even if her blade was quick enough, Smaug would no doubt find his body and then track her down. She wouldn't make it to Dale before meeting a fiery end. Reluctantly she holstered her knife and nodded her head.

"I will help you escape this place," she conceded. The relief poured into the prince's face like sun rays breaking through a cloudy sky.

"Thank you! You won't regret this," he promised.

"I better not," she warned. "Your uncle better be willing to pay for the trouble you've caused me."

He eagerly nodded.

"He will! I'm certain of it."

She could only hope so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for part 2 tomorrow!


	16. Kili/Tauriel Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili loved the grass. Tauriel finds herself loving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of my KilixTauriel piece. Enjoy!

Kili found that he loved the grass. He had so few memories before Smaug that he didn't even know what plants felt like. Too many long years in a stone castle. As a child, he used to imagine what they might feel like. He would pet the fabrics in his room and wonder if silk felt at all like a rose bud or if velvet was an accurate feeling for tree bark. So when Tauriel helped him escape the castle, he was delighted to find that grass had a texture all its own. Silky, but full of little hairs that prevented smoothness depending on how you stroked it.

"Put your boots on," Tauriel lightly scolded as they camped down for the night. It had been a week since they escape Smaug's lair, a week full of such excitement and adventure for Kili that his face hurt from all the smiling he had been doing. Tauriel didn't really appreciate his overzealous behavior but tolerated it.

"I've worn boots my whole life," Kili replied, happily digging his toes into the soil. "I've never had a real chance to feel the earth until now. I'm making the most of this opportunity."

The red haired woman rolled her eyes but didn't push the matter. The prince was grateful.

"Is there any greater feeling than this," he wondered out loud, sighing with pleasure as he fell back into the wonderful grass and looked up at the stars. His old window only showed him a fraction of the sky. Seeing so many stars was a wonder, a wonder he would never grow tired off.

"A feather bed with warm blankets? Or a chest big enough to bathe in that is filled with gold?"

Kili snorted, rolling onto his stomach to watch his companion.

"Gold is cold and unfeeling. Smaug adored it, spending hours polishing and organizing his hoard. Anything a dragon loves is something to avoid."

It was Tauriel's turn to snort.

"Spoken like a princeling who has never had a belly that felt hunger. Gold is what runs this world and only the rich live happy lives."

"I was taken from my family as a child to be the hostage of a dragon. All because he coveted my uncle's wealth. If my family had been poor I would have lived happily with them in a thatched cottage and never wonder if I might die before I ever feel the sun on my face. Gold does not make happiness."

Feeling as if he proved his point, Kili laid back down, curling away from Tauriel. He didn't like talking about his life, about how he was ripped away from all the comforts he knew. If he could have any one wish it would be exactly what he told Tauriel. That the Durin's were not royalty or wealthy, just simple people who had each other. A true family.

He listened as she shifted from her spot in front of him, though he couldn't tell if it was to move closer or further away. However, a curious whistling sound had him sitting up to check.

Tauriel sat by the fire, legs crossed and her thumbs pressed against her lips. In between them was a long, thin blade of grass. It seemed to be the source of the sound

"What is that?"

She lowered her hand and gave him a half smile.

"Just a trick I learned as a girl. Take a blade of grass and press it against your lips. If you blow in just the right way it will sing," she explained, demonstrating again what she did.

Kili grabbed his own blade of grass and attempted to do as she did, but only managing to get slobber on his hands.

"Here," Tauriel laughed, coming to sit beside him and presenting him with her own piece. She guided his hands together so his thumbs were set just like hers he been. "Now purse your lips, like you're about to kiss someone."

The prince felt his face blush and looked away.

"What's wrong?"

He mumbled something to the ground, refusing to meet her eyes. He really shouldn't feel embarrassed, but for some reason the idea of telling Tauriel that he had never kissed another person was nerve wracking.

He felt long, strong hands cup his chin and guide his face up. Then there were two perfectly soft lips pressed against his own. For a moment he was shocked, but that quickly melted away at the subtle pressure that was against his mouth and suddenly it felt as if he were flying.

All too soon it was broken though, and Tauriel was moving away with a smirk.

"There," she said softly and licked her lips, "that's how you kiss. Now, put your mouth against the grass and blow sharply."

Kili hurried to do as asked, head still reeling from what had just happened. The grass sang in his hands, causing him to smile and ruin the sound. Tauriel smiled at him.

The prince thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

XxxX

Erebor was three weeks away from Smaug's keep, if the weather held steady and nothing caused them delay. Tauriel had planned on having her reward by the next moon and on her way to the next kingdom. Unfortunately, like her original plan to rob Smaug, the presence of the prince added a hitch.

She founds herself enjoying the time she spent with Kili. He was like a breath of fresh air, hopelessly naive and utterly entranced by the wide world but also intelligent and possessing a wisdom few people had. He loved to play in the grass and would often challenge her to races as they traveled. He was an excellent sprinter and won most of their short distance contests but her longer legs and honed stamina had her winning the far distance ones. During those times she won he smiled so brightly and proudly, as if he had never doubted her for a second, that sometimes it would make her blush. Thankfully when that happened she could blame the running for her red cheeks.

Every town they passed Kili insisted on staying a night, even if they arrived in the early morning and had plenty of supplies to keep traveling further.

"There are so many people, Tauriel," he would say, eyes eagerly flitting from one strange person to another. "They all have their own stories, their own hopes and dreams! Can't you feel it? That energy that unites them all?"

So she would let him explore to his hearts content, joining him as they sampled the local bakers wares or danced along with the locals in some festival that was being held. Every human experience they tried together, until Tauriel was just as eager to reach the next town as Kili was.

Until one day it wasn't another town they could simply leave in the morning. It was Erebor, the great kingdom of King Thorin, and Kili's true home.

"It's so green," he whispered in awe, reaching out his hand to touch one of the stone buildings. It was a gesture that had her smiling. Kili was a very tactile person, she learned. Anything new or unfamiliar he encountered he immediately wanted to touch, to feel in his hands. The texture, the temperature, the weight, it all told him a story about its place in the world.

"It's a special stone mined from a nearby mountain. The Lonely Mountain its called. The whole city is made from it," she explained. Kili frowned, dropping his hand from the wall and stepping close to her.

"I don't remember this," he admitted with a frown. She gently took his hand in hers, rubbing a soothing rhythm against his skin.

"You will," she promised, "in time. Just give yourself time."

Kili nodded, squeezing her hand in thanks. He took a deep breath and threw his shoulders back. When he looked at her it was with the same excited smile he had with every step of their journey together.

"Shall we?"

She smiled back, though hers was a touch hesitant.

"Let's find your family."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final piece will be up tomorrow. Thanks for reading!


	17. Kili/Tauriel Pt.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both loved and both were afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part of my KilixTauriel damsel-in-distress AU

He had little memory of the royal palace, really just flashes that were broken and incomplete. Playing with his brother under a table with toy swords or hiding behind a curtain to scare his father as he walked by. And then there were moments when there was no mental image, just a strange feeling of familiarity. Like where he stood now, in some small study like room with a fireplace that he could stand upright in. For some reason it invoked such a feeling of nostalgia that he had to grip tight to Tauriel's hand to stay centered.

"Are you alright," she asked, stepping close and ignoring everything else but him. Kili nodded, but didn't release her hand.

She let him cling to her, glancing around the study with a guarded eye. It had taken a bit of convincing to the gate guard to be allowed an audience with the king, with him only relenting when they said they had news to share concerning the young prince. It was Tauriel's quick thinking that had them keeping his identity a secret for just awhile longer, something he was grateful for. As eager as he was to be reunited with his family, he did wish it to be a private affair.

They had been shown to this room in the palace before the guard left them alone. With every passing minute Kili felt his anxiety grow and grow.

"What an ugly carpet," Tauriel commented, toeing the rug beneath their feet. Kili couldn't help the snort that escaped him at the dry observation, causing her to smirk at him. She wasn't wrong. The mustard yellow weave was an eyesore.

"Relax, Kili. It will all be over soon and you will have the family you've always wanted," she gently reassured, expertly soothing him with a few simple words.

He took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips.

"I know that all this will work out in the end, but I can't help but be a bit afraid," he admitted wearily, biting down on his lip. Tauriel's hand came up and gently ran her thumb across his lower lip to chase away his teeth. She stepped closer to him so that they nearly shared the same breath and her taller frame shielded him from anyone watching.

"It's alright to be afraid. As long as you don't let that fear stop you from doing what you want."

She thought he was only afraid of meeting his family again after so many long years, but that wasn't the case. Another part of him was afraid of having to say goodbye to Tauriel. She had been his light after ages of darkness, freeing him from Smaug's terrible hold and helping him navigate the new world. She promised to reunite him with his family and in a few moments would fulfill that promise, but then what? Collect her reward and leave him? He liked to think she thought more of him than when they first met, but he couldn't be sure. They had only shared that one kiss weeks ago but nothing more. He feared that his feelings for her ran far deeper than hers did for him.

"Promise me, Kili," she whispered, mahogany eyes staring deep into his own rosewood, forehead still pressed close. "Promise me you will never let fear control you."

He couldn't promise her that and keep his fear a secret as well. He had to tell her, before it was too late.

"Tauriel, I-"

The door of the study banged open, causing them to jump apart in fright. Kili turned to see who had come and froze.

A older man with dark hair streaked silver and eyes the color of ice stared at him in disbelief. At one side was another man, fair, light, and young where his companion was not. And on the other side a woman, with a face of such beauty and familiarity that it caused tears to flow to his eyes.

"Kili," she whispered, voice breaking as she stumbled toward him. "My son!"

"Amad!"

Kili rushed forward, letting her embrace him as he wept like a child into her shoulders.

"My beautiful son," she cried, rocking him back and forth, "I would know this face as a blind woman!"

He laughed through his sobs, clinging to her dress with all his strength. So many nights he had spent dreaming of her, vainly trying to keep every memory of her alive. Her touch, her smell, her voice. And now he had her again.

He reluctantly broke away from her, shakily sobbing as he studied her face. She was older than he remembered, fine lines around her eyes and mouth, but no less beautiful.

She studied him similarly, hands reaching up to gently cup his cheeks, smiling softly as he pressed against them.

"I have dreamed of this day ever since you were taken from me. I knew that someday we would be together again."

"We all did," his uncle added, laying a strong hand against his shoulder. His tears were quieter than his mother's, but there nonetheless. "And now that day has come and all the kingdom will celebrate the return of our prince!"

Kili grinned, pressing a gently kiss to Thorin's hand.

"I will not say so no to that, uncle. First though, you must meet the one who rescued me. Without her I would still be Smaug's captive."

He turned from his family to beckon Tauriel closer, but she wasn't there. Desperately he searched the room for any sign of her. There was none.

The prince felt his heart break anew. He had missed his chance.

XxxX

The news of the lost prince's return spread like wildfire and soon all the city was abuzz with chatter. Tauriel ignored it. It made leaving easier if she didn't think of the man she was leaving behind.

It would have never worked, not in the real world. She was a glorified thief with no connections or roots to keep her in one place for long. He was royalty, with a family and kingdom to his name. They were too different and it would be better for them both if she left quickly and silently.

That was the lie she kept repeating to herself, but she didn't believe it.

Her heart ached at the thought of all that she was losing. She could admit it freely now that she loved him. The weeks they spent together had been the best of her life and Kili had shown her a world that she had never imagined. A world full of light and laughter and goodness. To never know that kind of world again without him was agonizing.

She knew he felt the same as well, could see it in his eyes as clear as day. He was also afraid, just as she was. Yet she made him promise to not let his fear control him in the hopes that he would ask her to stay because in the end she was a coward who couldn't ask it herself. And then his family arrived and that was it. Their fantasy world was shattered and her part in his life was over. So she left.

Tauriel made it to the edge of the city when she heard it. A noise like a hurricane, shaking the very ground she stood on. Then a great roar, deep and piercing it shot through her very soul.

Frightened she looked up, only to cower away at the great red figure of a dragon cutting through the air. The breath froze in her lungs at the sight, terror like nothing she had ever experienced washing over her. A single thought raced through her mind which was echoed in the shouts of the people fleeing around her.

Smaug.

Her legs began to move, chasing after the masses as they desperately tried to leave the city they were in. Reason stopped her though.

Smaug was here for a reason, the very reason she was leaving. Her heart beat heavily in her chest.

"Kili!"

With instincts honed from a life of hardship she cut through the crowd and sprinted back toward the palace. Blood pumped in her ears, drowning out the cries of the people. Vaguely she registered the smell of fire as Smaug brought down his terror. She ignored it. Kili was all that mattered now.

It took too long for her to reach the palace but at last she made it. The great stone walls that surrounded the royal home were broken and burned, clear evidence of a dragon's presence.

She continued forward, nimbly climbing the rubble until she was clear and raced toward the main palace. People were pouring out, some in the simple clothing of servants and others dressed as nobility. She grabbed one by the arm and swung them around.

"Where is the prince?! Where is Kili," she demanded, shaking the man she had.

"The gardens! Smaug has them all in the gardens," he gasped before wrenching himself away and fleeing. She let him go, already running in the opposite direction.

When they had been guided through the palace grounds only that morning, she remembered passing what looked like a garden. Tauriel could only hope that that was where Kili was now.

Gasping for air, she careened around the corner and into the main courtyard. It was a wreck. The pavement was cracked and trees burned. And there, between what used to be a fountain but was now a heap of rock was Smaug.

"You think you could run from me, little prince," he hissed, smoke escaping his snout as he pinned Kili to the ground with one mighty claw. "I am fire! I am death! Now you shall watch your family burn before returning to my mountain. There you will die, alone and with the knowledge that you caused their deaths!"

"No!" Kili struggled beneath the claw, desperately trying to free himself. The dragon laughed a horrible laugh and reared up, his belly glowing with the fire within as he aimed his head to the palace. Tauriel saw her chance.

She swung her bow off her back, knocking an arrow with the ease of experience.

"Fly true," she begged and let loose her shot, watching with trepidation as it flew through the air and to its mark.

It struck, nailing its target without fail. Smaug roared as the arrow dug into his heart.

"No," he cried, flapping his wings desperately. "I am born of death, death cannot take me!"

Tauriel watched in shock as the great dragon bellowed one final roar before collapsing forward, dead to the world, but crushing the prince him.

Her last sight of him was his frightened eyes searching for hers.

"Kili!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll leave the end up to your own interpretation. ;)


	18. Thranduil/Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every Tuesday, at half past one, Bard entered Thranduil's shop to buy a flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first BardxThranduil. Two stoic gentlemen with fantastic hair!

At half past one the bell above his shop door rang loudly.

Right on time, Thranduil thought as he wiped his hands from the soil he had been mixing and made his way to the front.

He heard them before he saw them, one excited little girl chattering away while a deeper voice patiently replied. For the past few months, like clockwork, Bard Bowman came into The Greenwood with his youngest child, Tilda, to pick a flower. Sometimes one of his other children accompanied them but more often than not it was just the two of them, every Tuesday at half past one.

"Hello, Mister Thranduil," Tilda cheerfully greeted, pigtails bobbing as she happily skipped up to him.

"Good afternoon, Miss Tilda. I trust you have a flower selected," he replied with a soft smile. Few people managed to break through his cool and professional manner. Young Tilda was one of them.

"I can't decide," she admitted with a large grin, "will you help me?"

He gave her a compiling nod and wasn't at all surprised when she grabbed his large hand in her own small one, leading him toward the flowers that most caught her eye. Today it seemed to be his selection of lilies. Bard was waiting patiently there.

"Good afternoon, Mister Greenleaf," he greeted.

"Good afternoon, Mister Bowman."

Tilda smiled happily up at her father, absentmindedly swinging their joined hands.

"Mister Thranduil is going to help me find the right flower," she explained. The dark haired man gave his daughter a solemn nod, though Thranduil could see a small smile on the normally stern face.

"He is the expert. No doubt he'll find you the finest of flowers."

This seemed to please his daughter, who let go of his hand and immediately began searching through the blossoms. Bard turned to him, the smile on his face gone but still friendly enough.

"Thank you for this. I imagine you have far more important things to deal with than a seven year old girl."

Thranduil waved a dismissive hand. Bard always thanked him like that, as if he was a mighty king who saved his people from starvation. It was just the way the man was he had come to learn. Grateful to any kindness, but never expecting it. It was obvious that life had not been easy on him.

It was one of the many reasons that attracted Thranduil to him. He was stern and grim, the kind of man who had survived everything that was thrown at him and continued on. However he was also kind and gentle, the evidence laying with his children. From the few months they shared an acquaintance Thranduil learned a lot of him by observation alone.

"Do you think mama will like this one," Tilda asked, holding up a vibrant tiger lily.

Like the fact that he was married, thus making Thranduil's attraction wholly inappropriate.

"A fine choice, Miss Tilda," he praised, kneeling down to carefully reposition her hands so she didn't accidentally crush the bloom. "You must be careful though," he warned, pointing to the spots on the petals. "If you put your face to near to the flower the spots will end up on your face. Oh my! It appears we are too late." His fingers gently poked her freckled cheek, causing her to giggle.

"Mister Thranduil, I've always had those!"

"No, no. I'm certain they weren't there when you came in. It's no matter, though. They are quite becoming."

Tilda grinned at him, happily clutching her flower and rocking on her toes. He smiled back.

"How about you show your father what you picked out?"

The little girl nodded excitedly, bouncing up to her father and presenting her choice.

"Isn't it beautiful, Da? Mama will love it!"

Bard smiled, dutifully inspecting the bloom and praising it accordingly.

"She will, indeed. Orange is her favorite color," he said before turning to Thranduil. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," he answered, stopping Bard from fishing out his wallet. "Take it as a gift for my favorite customer."

It was annoyingly sentimental of him, especially in such a hopeless case. However, he couldn't stop himself. He wanted to do this for him, however small of a gesture.

Bard frowned, uncertain.

"Are you sure? We don't want to put you out."

Thranduil shrugged.

"A single flower, however beautiful, will not break the bank. I insist that you take it. Your wife will appreciate it."

The dark haired man seemed confused for a moment and opened his mouth, no doubt to protest further. Tilda, however, interrupted him.

"Come on, Da! We have to hurry or we'll be late."

The man nodded, closing his mouth and stopping whatever it was he was going to say.

"Thank Mister Greenleaf for the flower, Tilda."

"Thank you, Mister Thranduil," the little blonde dutifully recited, beaming up at him. Thranduil wondered if she was ever sad, having only ever seen her smiling.

He graciously nodded in return.

"You are quite welcome, Miss Tilda. I hope to see you again next week."

"We will! And maybe Sigrid will come with her new boyfriend," she giggled. Thranduil saw Bard roll his eyes, but that soft smile he reserved for his children was dancing at the corner of his lips.

"The more, the merrier. Goodbye now, and have a pleasant day."

With that the father and daughter bid him farewell and left his shop, the bell above the front door signaling their departure.

XxxX

Every Wednesday at a quarter till four Thranduil visited the cemetery, a bouquet of amaryllis held softly in his hands. He would close the shop for lunch, but he never ate. Instead he walked the rows of tombstones until he came to the one he cherished most. It had been thirteen years since his wife's passing.

"Good afternoon, my darling," he greeted, gently laying the flowers at the base of her grave marker to replace the dead ones from the week before.

Sometimes he would speak to her, tell her how their son was doing or what he had changed in the shop. Once he even told her about Bard and his growing attraction to the man. Other times he would stand a silent vigil, content just to be near her after a long week. Today was one of those days.

He didn't know how long he stood there before someone interrupted him. Someone he did not expect to see.

"Your wife," Bard asked, coming to stand beside him.

"Yes," he replied, hiding his surprise well.

The grim faced man nodded in sympathetic understanding, studying the tombstone in front of him. Thranduil, in turn, studied him.

They had never once met outside his shop, Dale being large enough that it wasn't an unusual thing. Seeing him here now, without the buffer of his children to ease the way, felt oddly intimate.

He wore the same clothing he wore when he came to The Greenwood, dark shirts over worn but tidy jeans. And his demeanor was still much the same, stoic and reserved. Yet it was all different. In the shop they were Mister Bowman and Mister Greenleaf. Here, they were simply Bard and Thranduil, or so it seemed to him.

"My wife, Alice, died shortly after Tilda was born," he suddenly spoke, eyes still on his own wife's stone. "I miss her everyday, but the pain has faded to something bearable."

The blond blinked in surprise at his words, having never once thought that the other man was in a similar boat as he was. He admitted as much.

"I didn't know."

Bard shrugged, giving him a half smile.

"That's understandable. Tilda often talks about her as if she was still with us. Many people are surprised when they discover that isn't the case."

"My own son was similar in that respect when he was young. Even now he sometimes falls back into that habit. It comforts him, I believe."

Silence fell between them, a comfortable quiet that neither felt intimidated by. It felt natural to simply stand side by side. Thranduil soaked it in, wishing that it would last forever.

For awhile, it seemed that it might. The sun, however, had different plans and began to fall from the sky, casting long shadows about them.

"I should head home," Bard confessed, "Sigrid is home with her new boyfriend and I don't trust him yet."

Thranduil smirked at the statement. He knew Bard's eldest was a woman grown, but it seemed the man's protective nature didn't wane with age.

"I will see you next Tuesday than. Perhaps I will also meet this boyfriend I've been hearing so much about."

"Or we could meet sooner," he offered, giving him another half-smile. "We could go for a coffee, or maybe dinner one night?"

It was his turn to smile back, small but true.

"I would like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man! I had a crazy day! I was driving up to DC with my family to visit my sister when a woman flipped her car in front of us, landing in a ditch. We pulled over to help her (my dads a doctor and my brother a firefighter). Luckily she was okay, no injuries or anything. It was insane!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one! Let me know if you have any ideas for future stories or pairings. :)


	19. Dori/Balin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They met on the grandest ship ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dori and Balin for your reading pleasure! I think these two are so cute together and would like to write more with them. Maybe as an established couple years into their relationship.

He really shouldn't be here. This part of the ship was for first class passengers only, a group which Dori certainly didn't belong to. But Nori was being particularly trying that day and there were only so many places that he could use to get away from him for a few hours. It was better than the steam room.

He inhaled deeply, letting the sea air fill his lungs until he was about to burst, before slowly exhaling. Little by little he felt himself relax, all the stress from the trip melting away with the sea foam.

It will be better in New York, just make it to New York, he slowly chanted in his mind. He closed his eyes and imagined what their new life would be like. A townhouse with enough rooms that they wouldn't have to share and a kitchen that had a working fireplace and running water. Perhaps a garden out front, full of daisies. There would be a school nearby for little Ori to attend, and he would find work as a seamstress. Nori would see how well they were doing for themselves that he would give up the life of crime and settle into a respectable position. It would all work out, he assured himself.

When he opened his eyes again he felt calmer than he had in a long while. Now that he wasn't filled to the brim with righteous fury at his middle brother, Dori was able to see how truly lucky they were.

Despite all their scrimping and saving, they had only been able to afford one ticket for passages to New York on the RMS Titanic. The original plan had been for Nori to go and begin a life in the states, sending money back to England for Dori and Ori to arrive later. Then, the night before he was supposed to leave, the middle O'rally brother appeared, flushing two tickets he had won in a card game.

"No way would I leave my brothers behind. When we get to New York, it will be together or not at all," he laughed, gently patting Ori who hugged the life out of him. Dori himself was getting misty eyed, the tickets clutched in his hand.

"You did good, Nori. You did very good."

The red head cheekily winked in reply. Nearly a week later and they were off. Their old life was done forever and only good things were to come.

Feeling ridiculously refreshed, he left his spot and began to walk the deck, hands behind his back as he cheerfully took in the sights. Their third class accommodations were tolerable but didn't have the sheer opulence of the first class. It was nice to stroll amongst them, imagining what life would be like if they were among the wealthy.

Someday, we will be, he promised himself. He had big plans for New York. All they had to do what get there. Dori found himself once again picturing their future as he leisurely strolled about. He had just begun to pick out the curtains that would hang in their parlor room when he was jarred back to reality, having run into another passenger.

"Oh, dear me! I am terribly sorry. Do forgive me," he apologized hastily, instinctively reaching out to steady the other person.

"It's alright, laddie. No harm done," the other man replied, a man his age with white hair and a fine beard. He was quite handsome, Dori thought before halting his thoughts right there. Such attractions had to wait. What a pity!

"Forgive me, but I do not believe I have seen you before," the other man wondered with a polite smile. He held out his hand, the other tucked behind his back. "Balin Durin."

Dori quickly took the offered hand, ignoring how strong it felt in his, and gave it a polite shake.

"Dori O'rally, at your service."

Mr. Durin smiled knowingly at him, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Do tell me, Mr. O'rally, why haven't we been introduced until this moment? I was certain I met everyone in First Class."

He felt his heart quicken with anxiety at the question, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to come up with an answer. He didn't what would happen if he was reported to a crew member, but it certainly couldn't be good.

"W-well, you see...I was just..." He stuttered, hands nervously patting down his waist coat. He had never been very good at lying, even to save his own skin. He wasn't Nori after all.

The other man chuckled, not unkindly.

"Peace, Mr. O'rally. I won't report you for walking the deck. I think it's quite silly that they keep the passengers separated," he reassured. Dori felt relief but was a tad suspicious. In his experience, no one of the upper class helped another from a lower class unless they wanted something in return. They had few possessions with them on this journey, certainly nothing of real value to pay this Mr. Durin with. He hated to think he would ask something unsavory of him.

Hesitantly, he replied. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Durin. How might I repay such a kindness?"

The other man smiled again, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Allow me to accompany you on your stroll. I enjoy meeting new people and I imagine you would enjoy the company?"

Again, he hesitated. That was it? Just a walk together on the deck and perhaps an amiable chat as well? It seemed a bit too easy, if he were honest.

Mr. Durin read his hesitance, and quickly added, "Unless you wish to be alone? In which case I apologize for my forwardness and bid you good day."

He tipped his head and began to walk away. Dori quickly stopped him.

"No," he rushed, reaching out to grab the man's shirt sleeve before letting go as if burned. How impertinent of him!

"I would like it if you joined me. The day is a fine one and company would be welcomed."

Mr. Durin smiled, his blue eyes shining merrily.

"Shall we then?" He offered his arm, which Dori shyly took, and together they continued to walk.

Conversation flowed smoothly between them, Mr. Durin proving to be a charming and witty companion. Dori was utterly enchanted. His life, being what it was, meant that he had few romantic encounters and the few he had managed were no lasting affairs.

They talked of everything, from stories of occupation where he learned that Mr. Durin came from money but found true pleasure in his work as an insurance business to family, both having a staggering amount of humorous stories involving their brothers. Before either realized it the sun had set and a chill began to set in the air.

"I need to return to my brothers," he reluctantly explained, pulling his arm free of Mr. Durin's. The grey haired man smiled in understanding and agreement.

"As must I. No doubt Dwalin has grow bored in my absence and had begun to cause trouble."

Dori chuckled. He was sure that if Nori ever met Dwalin they would either become the best of friends or the worse of enemies.

"I should like to see you again," the white haired man continued, eyes hope and bright. "Perhaps you would join me tomorrow evening for dinner?"

He smiled shyly.

"Yes, I would like that."

XxxX

Dori sat on a rickety bench, both arms wrapped fiercely around Ori to fight off the cold and fright. The poor boy hadn't spoken since they climbed into the rescue boat. Nori walked up to join them.

"I gave our names to the crew. They will have a room for us within the hour," he quietly explained, serious and somber.

Dodo nodded.

"Thank you, Nori."

The red haired man nodded, coming to sit on the other side of Ori. The brothers stuck close together, gathering strength from the other. They largely ignored the commotion around them.

"Nori," Dori spoke, a thought coming to mind. "You said you gave our names to the crew. Are they collecting everyone's?"

"Yeah. They'll compare it to the ships roster when we get to New York, see who is alive and who is..." He trailed off, not really needing to finish his thought. Everyone knew what he meant.

Dori carefully unraveled himself from Ori, replacing his arms with the blanket he had been given, tucking the ends in so his brother remained warm.

"Stay with him, Nori. I have to check something."

He needed to know. It was a long shot, a foolish gamble and he shouldn't hope. But he had to know.

Dori found the man taking names, patiently waiting to catch his attention.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked, stepping up to him when he finished speaking with another passenger. "I was wondering if you could help me. I'm looking for someone, I don't know if they made it to the life boats or not."

The man gave him a somber look and nodded.

"The name?"

"Balin Durin. He was in First Class."

He flipped through his papers, diligently checking each name written there. Dori waited on bated breath. Finally he reached the end of his list.

"I'm sorry," he said in sympathy. "I have no Durin name here."

Dori shook his head, not believing it.

"Please, check again! He is my age, white hair and beard, he has a brother named Dwalin, and he has to be on that list."

"Sir, I'm truly sorry. There may be a chance he is on another part of the ship, but it is very likely that he has perished. Not many men survived, from any class."

With a polite tip of his cap he left Dori alone.

The grey haired man stumbled away from the crowds, finding himself at the railings of the ship. Not unlike a few nights before.

It wasn't fair. Any of it. So many people had died, Dori had died, but not him. It shouldn't be him.

He buried his head into his hands, quietly sobbing as it all hit him. The feeling of dread, the knowledge that they were going to die, the screams of the dead. All of it.

"You look like you could use the company," a soft, familiar voice spoke. He spun around, disbelief and hope coursing through his body. Behind him, dressed in a dirty suit and wearing a weary expression, was Balin.

He didn't waste any time, launching himself at the man and pulling him into a hug.

"I thought you didn't make it, I thought you drowned," he cried, clutching to him desperately. Balin held him just as tightly.

"I believed the same. I heard the crew locked the gates between the decks and that many of the third class were stuck inside when the ship finally sank. I feared the worst."

He reluctantly broke away, but not fully. They kept their arms wrapped around each other. Dori brought one hand up to cup Balin's cheek, relishing at the softness of his beard.

"Your brother," he asked.

"Alive. And yours?"

"They're as well as they can be, considering. You were right. They locked the gates, keeping us in. But Nori managed to pick it and get us out."

Balin sighed in relief.

"I'm glad. Too many people died, people that could have been saved."

Dori gently brought their foreheads together, both offering and taking comfort.

"Would you think poorly of me if I ask that we speak of other things? Not forever, but just for tonight."

He felt lips gently press against his skin.

"For you, anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! If you have any ideas on future stories or pairings let me know. I love to hear them. :)


	20. Dwalin/Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori loved his job. The mysterious patron was a perk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Deaf Ori. Love these two!
> 
> Quick note: In this story Ori was taught oral skills as well as signing, thus him being able to speak with Dwalin. I don't have much experience with the Deaf Community, but I hope I did this justice.

Ori loved his job. For eight hours a day he was surrounded by books of all sorts, had ample down time to work on his own writing, and it was one of the only places where a 'no talking' rule was strictly enforced. For a deaf man like him it was a relief. It wasn't that he resented the hearing world, but it could get frustrating at times when no effort was made to help those who didn't quite belong in it. Yes, the library was the perfect place for him.

Recently though he discovered another perk to his work. A perk that came in the form of a large, burly man with an assortment of tattoos and piercings. A man he affectionately named Tattooed Bear.

_Tattooed Bear is here_ , his coworker signed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Ori blushed lightly, but grinned nonetheless.

_Dressed in leather_ , he asked coyly.

Bilbo laughed, quickly informing him that not only was he wearing his leather jacket but he had the pants to match as well. The younger librarian felt his blush intense and smile widen. He loved those leather pants.

_Here he comes_ , Bilbo informed, breezing by him and subtly pointing to his ear. Ori hurriedly switched on his cochlear implant. Normally he wouldn't bother, but for Tattooed Bear he would make the exception.

"Good afternoon," he greeted the man, slowly and deliberately forming the words in his mouth.

"Hello," Tattooed Bear replied, a bit louder than was polite in a library but Ori knew it was for his benefit. Bilbo had explained that he spoke in a quieter toner with the other librarians and patrons. It gave him a bit of a thrill to think about.

"Did you find what you needed?"

The man nodded, placing a small pile of books on the counter. Ori took them, curiously reading the titles as he scanned them for check out. Tattooed Bear had a wide range of tastes when it came to reading. One day he would checkout a book on Ancient Roman battle strategies and the next, a dime store romance novel. He seemed particularly fond of crime novels, having nearly exhausted their stock on the genre. Ori had told him once that Sherlock Holmes was one of his favorite series and asked if he had seen the latest TV adaptation. Tattooed Bear said he didn't but the next day came in and told him he watched all six episodes the night before. They happily exchanged theories on how they thought Sherlock survived the fall in the series 2 finale.

The stack he had now was a usual mismatching group. There was a book on French cooking nestled in between one in the fantasy genre and another that was a thriller.

"Do you like to cook," he asked, hoping the answer was yes. What was more attractive than a man who cooked? Nothing, that's what.

Tattooed Bear looked at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowed as if he didn't understand him. Ori blushed. That very well might be the case. His oral skills were very good, thanks to Dori's patience and Nori's clever games, but sometimes he got so caught up in the moment that he would forget to annunciation his words and it would come out a garbled mess. It was embarrassing.

Instead of verbally replying, he held up the cookbook, tapping it with his finger and then pointing to the man in an exaggerated manner. He seemed equally embarrassed as understanding dawned on his face and he nodded.

"I cook a little, but would like to learn more," he explained, slowly and carefully. Ori smiled, appreciating his answer.

He finished checking him out and stacked the books neatly on the counter.

"Do you have a bag?"

Tattooed Bear shook his head, grabbing the books. He hesitated for a moment, before speaking again.

"I will read here for a bit," he said, pointing to a secluded table in the back. Ori nodded.

"If you need anything, just ask me."

The man gave him a half smile and nod, taking his books to the table he indicated and sitting down. Ori would have liked to speak more with him, but watching him walk away was also very nice. God bless whoever invented leather pants.

XxxX

_I'm headed out. Got a date with Oakenshield_ , Bilbo signed with a cheeky wink. Ori wrinkled his nose, mockingly disgusted by the information.

_Here's to hoping you really are Barrel-rider tonight_ , he replied, using of the many name signs he gave his friend.

_If I'm to be Barrel-rider tonight I will first need to be Luck Wearer_ , Bilbo laughed. Ori giggled along, waving goodbye as his coworker left, leaving him to close up.

He quickly shut down all of the computers and began walking through the library for any late stragglers. Imagine his surprise when he found one. And not just any late night reader, it was his own Tattooed Bear sitting in the same spot he had been in hours before, a look of incredible frustration on his face.

Ori approached him, gently tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. The large man jumped in surprise, nearly falling out of his seat as he tried to turn in his chair to face him. The librarian bit his lips to stifle his laugh, but not quite managing to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he apologized.

"Didn't scare me, just surprised me is all," Tattooed Bear grunted, readjusting himself in his chair. Ori nodded, letting it slide.

"The library is closed for the night," he informed with an apologetic smile.

The other man nodded, gathering his books and standing. Unfortunately he misjudged the spec between his feet and his chair, ending up tripping in a heap of paper and leather at Ori's feet. The smaller man immediately dropped down to help him.

"Are you alright," he asked, stacking the books together.

"Fine," he grunted, making to grab the pile in Ori's hand. The librarian frowned, not used to this abrupt and rude manner from the other man. Curious, he looked down at the books in his hand only to see an ASL guidebook on the top.

"You're trying to learn sign language," he asked. The man frowned gruffly, obviously embarrassed.

"Trying," he grunted, "damn thing is near impossible to follow."

"Why?"

The question seemed to startle the leather wearing man. Ori patiently waited for an answer.

"So I could talk with you. Properly, that is," he shyly admitted.

The answer had the little librarian grinning widely, his stomach a flutter with excitement. Tattooed Bear wanted to talk with him, communicate in a way that didn't need silly implants that didn't always work. It was very flattering.

"I could teach you," he shyly offered. "It's hard learning any language with just a book alone."

The man smiled softly, nodding.

"I would like that," he replied and stood up, offering his hand to Ori. Ori made a pleased noise, taking the hand and letting himself be lifted from the ground.

"I'm Dwalin," Tattooed Bear said, "I don't think I ever actually gave you my name.

"It's nice to meet you, Dwalin. I'm Ori," Ori replied, slowly signing his own name sign, Small Scribe. Dwalin intently studied the movement, then brought his large hands in a clumsy recreation of it. Ori smiled encouragingly.

"I get off at six tomorrow. We can start your lessons then," he offered as he walked the man to the front door. Dwalin nodding in agreement before stepping outside.

"Until then," he said, a pleased smile on his face.

Ori smiled and signed back.

_Sleep well, Tattooed Bear._

The other man looked confused.

"What does that mean?"

Ori giggled.

"I'll tell you someday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have very little experience with Deaf Culture, but hope to change that. I'm taking an ASL course this semester and have already learned so much. I hope I did this topic justice.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Have any ideas for future stories or pairings? Let me know! Love to hear them. :)


	21. Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wasn't very inclined to share his culture with the dwarves, but they were insistent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another culture study of hobbits, featuring a barely there ThorinxBilboo.
> 
> Also, just so you all are aware, I'm in Virginia and am currently prepping for a blizzard that will last us a few days. Hopefully we won't lose power and my updates will be on schedule. We'll have to play it by ear.

"Have my eyes been put under a spell? It's Bilbo Baggins!"

Bilbo turned in his seat at the sound of his name, eyes lighting up when he saw the owner. A hobbit with curly red hair and merry green eyes weaved around the taller men and made his way to the table the Company had seated themselves at.

"Rando! Rando Chubb! It's been too long," Bilbo laughed, jumping off the seat to properly greet his old friend.

The dwarves watched curiously as the two hobbits grasped the back of each other's neck and gently pressed their nose and foreheads together before each taking deep breaths. They broke apart with wide grins and quickly began chatting in a what could only be described as Hobbitish, paying no attention to the dwarves behind them. That is until Kili, not liking that they were being ignored, coughed rather loudly and pointedly. The two hobbits stopped their chatter and focused on the group behind them.

Bilbo blushed red at his manners and quickly introduced them.

"Rando, these are my...colleagues." He didn't quite count them as friends and acquaintances was too distant for what they planned to do together. Colleagues fit well. "Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Ori, Dori, and Nori. And this is Thorin Oakenshield, our leader."

The red haired hobbit smile politely and gave a soft nod.

"Rando Chubb of Hobbiton," he introduced.

"Are you a friend of Bilbo's," Balin inquired politely.

"Oh yes! And his third cousin, once removed on his mother's side and his fifth cousin, twice removed from his father's."

"So kin then," Gloin announced.

"Yes, but that doesn't much matter to hobbits. We're all related one way or another."

"Well if you excuse us. It's been many years since we've had a good chat," Bilbo laughed and quickly drew his friend back away.

"A pleasure meeting you all."

That was the last the dwarves saw of Bilbo that evening.

***

"Good morning, Mister Bilbo!" Kili cried and roughly grabbed the back of his neck and slamming their foreheads and noses together.

Bilbo yelped in pain, trying at once to pull away from the young dwarf. Alas, it was a futile effort as he had a rather good grip on his. As the pain faded, he was surprised to note that Kili was loudly breathing in a vaguely familiar way.

It was when he was released and from the pleased grin on the dwarf's face that he realized just what happened. The boy had tried to give him a proper hobbit greeting!

"We need to work on your technique," he groaned, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. He wondered if it would leave a mark.

"Did I do it wrong," Kili cried, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy.

"A bit."

"Teach us then," Fili said next, eagerly stepping up beside his brother.

"Why? It's just a hobbit thing."

"Which is why we want to learn! It's so different from the way dwarves greet each other. It's quite silly really."

Bilbo sighed, slightly insulted by the blonds off hand remark.

"Well I think the way you dwarves bang your foreheads together is quite silly! Such unneeded violence and to your friends no less."

"That is a proud and ancient tradition amongst dwarves," Dwalin growled in defense of his people's custom.

"As is my hobbit greeting. What may seem silly to you is deeply personal to me. The same goes for your dwarfish mannerisms."

Fili had the grace to look slightly embarrassed at his lack of respect for others customs.

"My apologies, Master Baggins. Will you be so kind as to teach us the proper way to greet your kind," he asked, sincere in his apology and request.

"Apology accepted. I would be happy to teach you all how hobbits greet each other. Go on and pair up."

The dwarves, minus Thorin who remained seated and uninterested, paired together and waited further instruction.

"Now Kili had the basics of the greeting, but was unnecessarily rough in his execution. The key is to be soft and gently. Grasp your the back of your partners neck and lean forward so that your noses and forehead press together."

The dwarves did as instructed, until the all had their faces pressed against each other.

"Now breath deeply. Feel the life exchanged between you two. This is called 'ha' or 'the breath of life'. Hobbits value life above all things and to exchange it with another is an act of love for each other," He explained. The room was silent expect for the sound of deep breathing. After a minute or so the dwarves broke apart.

"Very good. We call this 'hongi' and is used chiefly among friends and family."

"And what of lovers," Bofur teased with a little eyebrow waggle, causing the hobbit to laugh at the ridiculous display.

"It's relatively the same. After you exchange ha, lovers often finish off with a quick nuzzle of their noses but that can also be used as a sign of affection between young children and parents. Lovers also exchanged quick kisses before parting."

"Really? You do such an intimate thing in public," Ori wondered, his face blushing at the very thought.

Bilbo blinked in surprise. "Are kisses a private thing amongst dwarves?" The nods he received from the Company answered his question. The very idea was extremely baffling to the hobbit and he told them as much.

"Hobbits are extremely open in their affection. It is not unusual to see lovers sitting beneath a tree sharing kisses. As long as it remained just kissing, it's perfectly acceptable."

By this point, many of the younger dwarves had very red faces while the elders were better at hiding their looks of embarrassment. One of them, however, had to qualm at letting Bilbo know his disapproval of his people's custom.

"It's a silly and vulgar thing your people do," he announced gruffly.

Bilbo felt himself wilt a bit at the scorn. How could he, a supposed king, judge the customs of his people? Yes they were obviously very different from his own, but that was no excuse. He wasn't the only one to think so either.

"Now that wasn't necessary, Thorin Oakenshield, and it certainly wasn't how you were taught. A king judges another on character, not culture," Balin scolded. The dwarf king took the scolding with a snort or derision and dismissive glare.

Fili and Kili, who had been happily exchanging hobbit greetings up until this point, exchanged mischievous glances with each other before sneaking up on their uncle.

"Did you not once tell me a king must be knowledgable is a great many things," Fili asked.

"Politics, strategy, languages of Men and their ways," recited Kili.

"You know hobbits are kin to men so learning their culture is essential to a kings rule."

"And what better way to start then by learning a proper hobbit greeting from a real hobbit?"

Thorin opened his mouth to fire off a retort, but didn't get a chance as his nephews quickly manhandled him from his seat and thrust him before Bilbo.

The great dwarf glared at the little hobbit, which was really undeserved. Bilbo had no hand in the brother's scheme.

"Well go on, Thorin. Greet the hobbit," Dwalin laughed at his friends expense only to receive a glare in reply. The warrior was unimpressed.

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, looking around for a quick exit. However his plans were anticipated and the rest of the company blocked any way out. There was no escaping this.

A frustrated grunt brought his attention back to Thorin, how was now looking down at him with his piercing eyes. Bilbo flushed under the scrutiny but refused to look away.

The dwarf raised one large and calloused hand to cup the back on the hobbits neck and Bilbo did the same, having to stand a bit on his tip-toes to be able to reach. They leaned forward and pressed their noses together, just like Bilbo taught them, and as one exchanged deep breaths.

Bilbo kept his eyes closed, focusing on his own breathing and not the feel of Thorin's beard tickling his own bare cheek. After what seemed like an eternity, but was really only three deep breaths, the pair separated.

Swallowing hard, Bilbo tentatively met Thorin's gaze. The dark haired dwarf gazed back with an unreadable expression. It wasn't anger or disapproval, but the hobbit wasn't entirely sure it was acceptance either. Their odd staring match was broken by Fili, who whistled slyly at their display.

"Now nuzzle," Kili laughed and was joined in by the rest.

Thorin growled something at his nephew, which only made him laugh harder. Bilbo took the chance to put some distance between himself and the king, pointedly ignoring how fast his heart was racing. But was it with fear or desire. He decided he didn't quite want to know the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I know I did a culture story before, but this wouldn't leave me alone. Don't plan to add on it, I think it's pretty good as is.
> 
> Stay warm!


	22. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst snowstorm in a century. He shouldn't be out driving!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still have power, for now! But the snow keeps falling and the worst hasn't even hit us yet. The area in in is predicting between 28-30". Ugh!

He hadn't meant to be out. All the news stations reported that the weather was going to turn bad to worse, with historic snowfall over the next few days. He had been prepared, with bottles of water in his apartment, plenty of food that didn't need to be refrigerated, blankets and booze to keep warm, and a few good books in case the internet went out. Fili was a man ready to burrow into his apartment and wait it out. His brother, however, wasn't so prepared.

"I don't have water, and only a few cases of beans! What do I do," Kili called in a panic hours before it was supposed to get bad.

So, like the good older sibling he was, Fili called him a flurry of curses, zipped up his coat, and drove out to where he lived. He would always be there to help Kili, even though at 23 he should be able to handle things like this himself.

He had grabbed Kili from his place and managed to find a store that hadn't been completely picked apart of the essentials by smarter customers. In the end Kili had enough water, food, and dirty magazines to make it through the storm.

"Thanks, brother! I thought I would have died for sure," Kili laughed, his initial panic gone now that Fili had fixed things.

The blond grinned, grabbing him in a headlock and giving him a fierce noogie, as was his right as the eldest.

"Next time, plan ahead. I can't always be there to help you," he lightly scolded. Both knew that wasn't true. Rain or shine, snowstorm or hurricane, Fili would always help his little brother if he needed it.

It was a noble gesture, no one would deny it, but it also left him in this sort of predicament. Miles from his apartment in near white out conditions and then suddenly, his car sputters and dies. He had done his best but the snow proved to be too much and he had to call it quits.

He managed to pull over to the side of the road, or what he thought was the side. There was too much snow to really tell. Fishing out his phone, he quickly looked at the map of his area, hoping that there was some place he could take shelter in. A hotel or a gas station. Hell, even a public bathroom would work.

Luck was on his side. Not a block from where his GPS put him there was a 24 hour auto shop, it even had a special message that said they would be open in the storm. Perfect!

Wrapping his scarf more securely around his neck, and pulling his hood tightly up, he got out of the car and into the storm. He fought the urge to gasp as the cold, already feeling it soak through his jeans and boots.

_Damn it, Kili_ , he thought as he hurriedly locked his car and began to trudge through the ever rising drifts. The shop should be right around the corner, not too far in normal conditions but in a snowstorm it was like wading through a swamp, slow and energy sapping. He pushed on.

Finally, through the sheet of white, he saw a florescent red light shining like a beacon.

**_Bowman's Auto-body Repair  
Open 24 Hours_ **

The snow was nearly halfway up the front door, but Fili was able to see the open sign hanging cheerfully behind the glass. Thank god.

With a burst of energy he cleared the last few yards, practically falling into the store when he pushed against the door and into the warmth. An automated bell rang through the room, no doubt alerting whoever was here of his arrival.

He stomped his feet on the doormat, trying to dislodge as much snow as possible before it melted and soaked him even more. He could hardly feel his legs from the ice and knew he needed to warm up quickly.

"Welcome, to Bowman's. How may we-good lord! Are you alright," a woman rushed to his side, grabbing him and quickly guiding him to one of the chairs that lined the wall. Fili gratefully sunk down, shivering so hard that he couldn't properly speak. He settled for nodding his head.

The woman, she looked about his age, was dressed in a durable jumpsuit, her hair pulled back with a scarf and grease on her face. There was a name embodied across her breast, but he couldn't read it.

"Your soaked through. Stay here, I'll get you a blanket to help warm you up," she said before quickly rushing off. Fili couldn't do much else, violently shaking from the chill. He couldn't feel his toes in his boots, never a good sign in the cold.

The woman returned, a bundle of blankets in one hand and some clothes in the other.

"Here," she said, handing him the clothes. "These are my da's. They're clean and warm. There's a bathroom over there you can change in."

"T-thank y-y-you," he managed, giving her a trembling smile. She returned it with a soft one of her own.

"When you're done, come back out here and I'll have something to warm for you to drink. That'll drive the last of the cold out."

Gratefully he took the clothes and hobbled off to the bathroom. It took a bit of careful maneuvering and multiple attempts with clumsy fingers, but finally he exchanged his sodden clothes with the warm and dry ones. They were a little to long in the leg and tight around the thighs, but he wasn't complaining. He rolled them up as best as he could before exiting the bathroom, leaving his own clothes in a heap behind him. He would worry about them later.

The blonde mechanic smiled at him, a cup of something steamy held in her hands. Fili took it, sighing as his frozen hands met the heat of the ceramic. The first sip was heavenly, the taste of chocolate washing over his tongue.

"Bit of cheer," she asked, holding up a worn flask in her hand. Fili gratefully offered his mug and she happily tipped it into his drink, being quite generous. The next sip he took had a welcome bite and brought more warmth to his belly. His fingers had stopped trembling.

"So, what's your name?"

"Fili Durin."

"Nice to meet you, Fili. I'm Sigrid," she replied with a smile.

"So, what brings you out in a storm like this? Checking on your girlfriend and lost track of time?"

Fili laughed.

"You're not far off. I don't have a girlfriend, but my younger brother forgot to prep for the snow and called me in a panic. Had to go rescue the dolt. Car broke down before I could get home.

She frowned, looking out the window of the shop.

"Anything without four wheel drive and heavy duty tires won't be able to get through all this. I guess your car is one of them?"

He nodded, mouth full of hot chocolate.

"Snow is starting to pick up. You won't be driving your car back tonight, but if you want, I can drive you back to your place and then bring your car back to the shop. I'll even take a look at it tonight and get it running for you."

Fili was surprised by the generous act, but quickly accepted. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His mother taught him better than that.

"Great! I'll grab the keys to the plow and we can get you home in no time."

She hurried into the back, returning quickly with the keys and her jacket slung over her arms. She handed him a plastic bag.

"Go ahead and put your clothes in there. I would have for you to get wet so soon after getting dry."

"Thank you, this is really great of you. I would have been happy just staying inside until the storm lifted."

Sigrid shrugged, leading him through the shop.

"It's what we do here. Plus, it's not every day I get to play hero to such a handsome guy," she winked. Fili felt his face blush but grin widely. Being flirted at by a pretty girl made this whole situation very worth it!

"Well, you're certainly the most beautiful mechanic I've ever met," he replied, hopping into the truck she got in. "The others I've dealt with are a little too beardy for my taste."

"Luckily for you I just shaved this morning, very little beard on me right now."

"But I bet your beard is still eighty times more attractive than any other mechanic in the area."

The two laughed and flirted back and forth with each other, Sigrid navigating the blizzard with ease. He found it incredibly sexy, for some reason. Then again, he's always had a fondness for woman who don't need a knight to save them, preferring to do the rescuing themselves.

Too soon they were pulling up to his apartment building.

"This is me," he indicated, gesturing to the concrete structure. He was very reluctant to leave the cab, though it wasn't due to the weather.

He turned to face Sigrid, feeling as if he should say something more. He didn't really get the chance, though, as she leaned forward and gave him a soft, chaste kiss. Stunned, he didn't get the chance to kiss back before she was pulling away, a cheeky smirk on her face.

"You said you didn't have a girlfriend," she informed. "Thought I would take my chance."

Dumbly, he nodded, mouth slightly opened in awe. She laughed brightly, reaching over and lightly closing his jaw.

"Better get inside. The snow will be deep enough to bury you soon."

Again, he nodded, fumbling with the door handle. He climbed down and looked back, still unsure of what to say.

"Thank you, again. For everything," he finally managed, blushing at how awkward he felt. Sigrid smiled softly down at him.

"It was my pleasure, Fili. Come by the shop in a few days and I'll have your car ready."

"Will do."

With a final wave, he shut the door and hurried inside. By the time he was in the lobby she was gone and he realized that he had done nothing about the kiss.

"Idiot! Moron," he berated himself, banging his head against the wall. "Why didn't you ask her out for a date?!"

Grumpily he stuffed his hands in his coat pocket, ready to sulk for the rest of the night, when his fingers brushed against a different piece of paper. Confused, he pulled it out and looked it over. It was a buisness car for Bowman's, with a cellphone number scrawled on the back and a single question beneath it.

**_Dinner?_ **

With a grin, he quickly fished out his phone and dialed the number.

"Hey, Sigrid. It's me," he spoke as soon as the other line picked up. "Dinner would be great."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess where my inspiration came from? Snowzilla is killing me right now! I want spring to arrive now.


	23. Kili/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili knew how to entince his Alpha, and was more than willing to play the game.

Kili loved this part. Loved coming down to the training grounds to watch his mate throw his strength against the other warriors, grunting and growling as he beat them all to the ground. Dwalin was rarely defeated, an Alpha in full prime. And he belonged solely to Kili.

With baited breath he watched the warrior grab his opponent and throw him clear across the ring, muscles rippling from the effort and sweat dripping down his back. He was showing off, which meant that he was aware of Kili's presence. Biting down a smirk, he carefully stepped out from the shadows and into the ring. Stripping off his outer coat, he laid it on the fencing around the ring, purposefully ignoring his alpha.

The omega drew a simple circle in the sand, large enough for two people to grapple in, and pointed to one of the guards.

"You," he said, gesturing him closer. "You will fight me."

The guard seemed surprised, hesitation clear on his face.

"Your highness, is that wise," he asked, nervously shuffling his feet. The prince narrowed his eyes, his glare icy and hard.

"Are you denying your liege lord?"

The other dwarf visibly tensed and shook his head, slowly making his way into the ring. A quick sniff of the air told Kili all he needed to know. The guard he had chosen was an unmated alpha, strong and in his prime. His reluctance no doubt came from the idea that he could hurt Kili, an omega with a slighter frame then himself. It was a common thought amongst dwarrows, one Kili intended to ruthlessly exploit.

From the corner of his eye he saw Dwalin pacing, eyes fixed on him but not moving closer. He knew the game his mate was playing and the older dwarf was more than happy to play along.

Kili focused his attention on the guard in front of him, studying him with a keen eye. He was older than Kili, but far less tested in war and battle outside of the training ring. It would be an easy match, with the guard the loser and himself the victor.

"Knock me from this circle," he ordered, spreading his legs wide and rolling his shoulders. "You may use whatever means to do so."

The guard nodded, still obviously reluctant to go against his prince and an omega. Kili patiently waited, eyes keen. Suddenly the guard jolted forward, arms wide as if to grab him around the middle. Kili easily evaded him, aiming a swift kick to his back knee in the process. The dwarf grunted, falling to one knee. The prince sniffed the air, pleased at the sudden jolt of hormones. The guard's instincts were kicking in.

"Again," he ordered, giving him little room for recovery. The guard nodded, standing back up. He tried his first tactic once more, aiming low instead of high this time. Kili avoided it without trouble and returned with a swift chop to his opponents neck.

"Again!"

The guard growled, letting himself be controlled by his alpha instincts. But the more he gave in the sloppier he got, falling back on using his greater strength and form that Kili was easily able to overcome him, his own head free from distracting omegan instincts.

After the twelfth time he sent the guard into the dirt his game came to a head. The guard snarled, completely forgetting who it was he was facing, and tackled Kili full on. The prince grunted at the weight of the alpha, but didn't panic. He could feel Dwalin's eyes on him, but his mate didn't intervene. Using his smaller and more agile frame, he slipped from the guard arms. And with the momentum that had them going into a fall quickly pinned his arms in a painful hold against his back. The guard hit the dirt full on, his face pressed to the ground as he struggled to get free.

"Enough," Kili said, pressing his hold against the guard's back. "You fought well, guardsman, but you let your instincts control you. Against a smarter opponent, which I am, it would mean death."

He climbed off the dwarf and gestures for two others to come forward.

"Take him somewhere he might calm down. I won't have an alpha in rut roaming Erebor."

Without another word he left, feeling Dwalin's gaze hot on his back.

He made it as far as the Royal library before he found himself pinned to wall, the large muscled form of his alpha keeping him in place.

"You think you can give a show like that and get away unscathed," Dwalin growled, teeth grazing his ear.

Kili shivered, pressing back into his mate.

"Of course not," he panted. "Why do you think I was walking so slowly?"

The tattooed dwarf snarled, spinning him around so their fronts pressed together. Kili could feel his interest stiff against his leg. He struggled to keep from reacting to it.

"Omega's like you need to learn their place. They belong to their alphas and you, little princeling, you belong to me."

The warrior bite into his neck at his bond mark, triggering the pleasure glands there. It was all Kili could do to keep standing, keening loudly at the sensation. His hands grabbed wildly at his head, fingers curling tightly in the hair that remained. With the strength that came from being an archer he pulled him away and held him close so that their noses brushed.

"I am your prince," his gasped, rubbing his front against his mate. Dwalin groaned wantonly, his hips thrusting into his own.

"You will obey me," he replied, his voice dripping with the power of an alpha. Kili struggled against it, loving the fight for dominance between them.

"Make me!"

His words had Dwalin snarling again as he surged forward in a commanding kiss, teeth clashing and tongues battling for the lead. The guard dropped his hands and pulled his legs up so that Kili was forced to wrap his legs around his waist. The new position had the omega crying with pleasure, grinding down for more.

"Say it," Dwalin growled, between kisses and bites. "Say it and I will give it to you."

Kili moaned wantonly, the friction between them to great to ignore. He gave in.

"Take me, alpha," he begged desperately. "Knot me!"

Dwalin smiled viciously at the surrender.

"With pleasure, my prince."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I never saw Kili as a submissive omega, or submissive in general. I like the idea of him being a bit of a power bottom and he and Dwalin often fighting to the lead in bed. Hope you guys liked how it turned out.
> 
> And it keeps snowing! All day! If I can figure out how to post a picture on here, I have a couple to show just how much we got. And it's not slowing down.
> 
> Anyways, if you have any ideas for future stories or pairings, let me know. I read them all! Thanks!


	24. Fili/Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All his life Fili has followed the path of a prince. Nori was not meant to be found on such a path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, a FiliXNori fic. I quite like how it turned out. :) Enjoy!

Fili had been raised on tradition and duty. From the time he was born and presented to the dwarves of Ered Luin as the future king to the present day it was clear to him the path he must follow.

“You are of the line of Durin,” Thorin would solemnly say, face stern but eyes alight with fire. “Ours is not an easy life, but we keep the hopes and dreams of our people alive. It is a weight we are honored to bare.”

As it was the only life he had ever knew he found that he didn’t mind it. He knew that someday, far into the future he hoped, his uncle would pass into the halls of their forefather and the crown would pass to him. He would wear it with both dignity and humility, devoting his life to the betterment of his people and for the honor of his kingdom. On some level he knew that his life was cemented in a straight path, but he never truly bothered to think on it. Why worry over a future that would not change?

But then he met Nori.

He had been like no other dwarf Fili had known. Even in exile, the royal family of Erebor kept to high standards, associating with other nobles, exiled and other wise, and adhering to a strict code of honor. As was mentioned, all Fili knew of was duty and integrity. And then, one blustery autumn day, a dwarf with fiery red hair crosses his path. He is witty, charming, and utterly enchanting, however he was also cunning, light fingered, and cared little for things like sportsmanship and fair play. The day he stole Fili’s purse was the day he stole his heart.

They kept their relationship a secret, for both their sakes. Fili, Crown Prince, could not be seen interacting with someone of Nori’s reputation, and Nori’s life revolved around secrecy and shadows. If any knew of his connection to Fili they would ruthelessly exploit it and the tri-lobed dwarf would not risk such a thing.

“Someday,” he promised, kissing the younger dwarf softly, “We’ll both come clean and no one will tear us apart.”

It was a dream Fili longed to come true.

Kili was the first one to discover their relationship, and was wholly supportive.

“Love is love, brother. All that matters is that you both are willing and devoted to the other. I will keep your secret,” he promised, ever the romantic. He was not so burdened with a sense of obligation as his elder brother, third in line to the throne as he was.

Sharing his secret with Kili had lifted a weight from his shoulders that he didn’t know was there. Keep secrets was not in his nature and he found that he longed to shout his love deep into the mines so all could hear. Someday, he would do just that.

Ori was second, having caught them in a rather revealing embrace. To the younger dwarf’s merit, he had simply shut the door quickly whilst loudly informing Dori that he was afraid Nori was out for the moment. Perhaps they should check the local tavern?

“I’ve prayed for Nori to find his happiness in another,” he shyly confessed to them, a gentle smile on his face. “I’m glad that you have found it with each other.”

Nori had then pulled his younger brother into a strong embrace, tightly pressing their foreheads together in a show of love and acceptance. Fili had then returned the gesture as well, grateful for his support.

“Thank you, brother,” he offered, causing Ori’s eyes to widen in surprise but his smile to widen greatly.

“Of course, brother.”

Balin was the third and though he understood, he cautioned them both.

“I shall not speak of this to Thorin, for it is not mine to tell. But be careful, my prince. Your life is not one that can easily be changed. You have responsibilities that must be met, and I fear Nori’s presence will not help them.”

Those words had been the cause of their first fight. Fili had been upset, rightly so, at the idea of having to give up his love for the kingdom. Why couldn’t he love Nori, who, though distant, was still of noble line? What difference did it make when they still lived in exile?

Nori had been quiet. Fili asked him again. What difference did it make? The redhead had reluctantly admitted that he saw some truth in Balin’s words. Were they being selfish? Ered Luin was constantly perched on the precipice of fortune and disaster, despite the unfailing effort of Thorin to provide those here with a good life. Perhaps Fili’s attention should be placed somewhere else, on someone else. A noblewoman who could provide him with an heir and perhaps enough coin to help sponsor them. Not a thief who spent his money just as quickly as he made it. Fili had stormed out after that and didn’t speak to him for three days. It was the most miserable time of his life.

Dori was the fourth to find out.

He had cornered him one evening, and using his incredible strength, dragged him back to his own house and demanded that he sit down. Fili quickly obeyed. With a satisfied nod he walked into another room, only to return with Nori, dragged in much the same was as Fili had been. He threw him none to gently into the chair beside him, refusing to meet his lover’s eyes.

“Now I’ve had about enough of this! You two love each other and will get past your silly fight. Both of you are scared for your future, but what dwarf isn’t? The difference is that you have each other and together you will face whatever comes your way. Tradition and crown be damned!”

Dori’s speech surprised them. Neither of them mentioned it, but they both had been certain the eldest Ri brother would be against their relationship. He had struck them both as a stickler for propriety, and by such rules a thief and a prince could not be in love. The dwarf scoffed, giving them both an exasperated but fond look.

“A thief and prince you both may be, but you are first my brother and my friend. I would have your happiness above all else.”

Thorin had been the fifth, and with him knowing the rest of the world soon followed.

“You must end it now.”

They don’t know how they were discovered, as Thorin would not tell. Each of their confidants had their trust, none betraying them even if they did not agree with their love.

“I love him, uncle.”

Fili saw a flash of pain behind Thorin’s eyes before they turned cold and stern once more.

“You are Crown Prince to the throne of Durin, your responsibilities are to the kingdom. Not to a common thief.”

To hear such things from the dwarf he saw as a father figure hurt him deeply, but still he would not give in.

“Then I shall abdicate. Pass on my title to Kili.”

This invoked a more passionate response from the dwarf.

“Do not be a fool! You are to be king, not your brother!”

“Then I shall be a king who is wed to a thief, because that is what I intend to do! We shall be bonded before Mahal himself and you will not stop it.”

The continued to rage at each other, words hurled back and forth like daggers until at last one struck true.

“If you marry that crook then you shall be no kin of mine! I shall declare you nameless and cast you from my house!”

Fili fell silent, the gravity of his uncle’s words stopping short any further argument he might have had. His decision was made.

“Than I shall be nameless.”

He walked out of the house, the only home he had even know, and did not look back.

Fili found Nori waiting for him on the outskirts of the Royal keep. He didn’t need to say a word for Nori to know that Thorin did not accept what was between them.

“What now,” he asked, voice quite and worried.

The blond dwarf gentle cradled his cheek and placed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I choose you, Nori, above all else.”

The two clung to each other, their whole world fitting inside their arms.

For once in Fili’s life he didn't follow that path that was chosen for him, and it was a choice he knew he would never regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not-so-nice-uncle Thorin, but every story needs a good ol'fashion villain. Honestly, this started out as an angsty piece with no real happy ending. But I realized I've written too many of those recently, so I gave it a kind of happy ending.
> 
> If you have any suggestions for futures stories or pairings, let me know! I love to hear them. :)


	25. Ori/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori offered his body to the pleasure of others, but some were more deserving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OriXThorin. So cute! Enjoy! :)

He wasn’t ashamed on his work. It kept bread on his table and lessened the burden on his brothers. Would he rather be doing something else with his life? Absolutely. He would like to travel, to get a degree, and perhaps, one day, turn images that swirled in his head into actual stories. Unfortunately, such things cost money, and for Ori Reed money was something that was a precious commodity in his life and not something wasted on silly dreams. It was to be scrimped, saved, and stretch to the last penny. Even such things as socks were hardly ever budgeted into his life. He could just mend the ones he already had. Again.

Besides, it wasn’t such a bad life. Sometimes his clients were generous, paying for his time and then leaving a good tip when it was all over. Some of his regulars even gave him gifts, usually little things that reminded them of him. A journal from a bookstore whose cover was the same green as his eyes, a fountain pen that bleed purple ink. On one occasion he had even received a lovely broach that set well against his favorite cardigan. Sadly, that had to be pawned off during a rather rough few months for him. He didn’t like thinking about it.

He had a decent enough client base. Nothing to brag or boast about, but more often than not a sufficient amount of willing customers to keep him afloat. There was Azog, who liked to keep things rough and emotionless. Ori always had to take a recovery day after meeting with him, but he paid well and was always careful not to take things too far. Then there was Thranduil, who often paid not only for Ori’s time but another street worker named Meludir as well. He enjoyed having an audience when he…preformed. Ori didn’t mind. Meludri was a nice man, one he considered a friend from the office. They would get coffee together occasionally.

Some of his customers like to pretend, have him play a certain role while they filled another. Others liked to keep things intimate, a slow tempo that was full of soothing caresses. Then there was one who wanted something else entirely. Just simply companionship. He was Ori’s favorite.

Thorin was a well known man, even to someone like Ori. He was the successor of the Erebor Bank and singlehandedly prevented its collapse. The media liked to portray him as a cold, unfeeling businessman who could invoke passion went set against the right course. Ori knew him differently though. Knew that beneath his stern exterior there was a man who felt deeply, sometimes too deeply, and was often lost in the waves of emotion.

That was where he came in.

With Thorin it wasn’t just sex. In fact, in the year since he began working with him, he could count on one hand all the times it actually got that far. Each occasion was during a particularly trying time for Thorin and it was more for the emotional comfort than the physical pleasure. For Thorin, his sessions with Ori were simply the physical connections that he could not find in his everyday life. Touch, for whatever reason, was considered a weakness in his world and something to avoid at all costs. It was torture for a man like Thorin, who had such a depth to him that poets would be green with envy if they knew. Ori provided that forbidden fruit.

It took some time to gain his full trust. They had started with simple sitting in the same chair together, Ori draped across Thorin’s lap as he gently stroked back his hair. When it was over, the older man shyly admitted that it was the first time in a long time he had ever felt so at peace. Such a confession made Ori’s heart break.

Slowly the built their relationship, touch by gentle touch, until at last they could lay in bed together, unclothed and flush against each other. That was when Thorin began to tell him his story. His actual story, not the one the newspapers reported on.

It was a tragic one. A grandfather fallen to madness, an absent father and a dead mother. A story of a little boy who had to grow too quickly in a world that was ruthless and heartless. As he spoke Ori held him closer, letting his head rest against his naked chest. With every word the young man felt the desire to protect the other, save him from all the heartache that he had suffered. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t his place. He was there to comfort. So instead he shared his own tale with the man, one not so dissimilar. A dead mother, a little boy who couldn’t stay a child for long, and a constant fear that he could not survive in this punishing world. That night was the only time they laid together for comfort sake alone, a comfort they both sought. He had refused Thorin’s money when it was offered, smiling sadly and explaining that they both used each other that night. It wouldn’t be right to take his money.

The dark haired man then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a kiss full of understanding and acceptance. Ori gratefully leaned into it.

He knew he was playing a dangerous game. In his line of work, it was vital that any feelings were kept under lock and key. It was a rule that he followed fiercely, even to the point of refusing a kiss from certain clients because it would encourage their affections. With Thorin, though, he couldn’t resist. It was an ironic thing, really. That he, a prostitute, was in the very same boat as Thorin. Starving of meaningful touch, craving that deeper connection that he couldn’t find anywhere else. He knew it would only end badly, but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. So he didn’t. He kept returning, kept the charade of a business relationship alive. He knew it would break him when Thorin finally ended things. All his clients eventually moved on, finding someone new and exciting to fill their darkest desires or making that wanted connection without someone that could give them true meaning. It would be the same with Thorin, he knew that.

Until then, though, he would treasure what they had. And he would keep silent about it until the very end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! Inspired by a short scene from Ripper Street that got my thinking of these two. I will definitely be writing more of this pairing later on.
> 
> If you have any stories ideas or pairing requests, please let me know. Have a specific AU for a specific couple? Even better! I love hearing them and I read them all.


	26. Bard/Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were stories of the Fair Folk that lived in the deep woods, that warned of the dangers withing. Bard, however, was desperate enough to chance them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Bard in a FairyAU. Enjoy!

Bard had heard stories of the Fair Folk that lived in the dark woods, stories of men and women driven to madness after a night spent there. Or of children being whisked away, only to returned years later but looking much the same as if it were only days since they disappeared. They were dark stories, told to warn the children not to wander too far at night and to remind adults of the real danger that came from the unknown.

Like any good man of his village, he heeded such tales with the proper amount of caution they deserved. When he needed wood for the fires, he made sure he gathered it all by midday and never risked staying past sundown. He passed on the same stories his mother told him to his own children, with grave eyes and a serious tone.

You must never go in there, he would say. For the Fair Folk are fair only in looks and nothing else. They will take you and keep you and you will be lost forever.

Desperation, however, drove even good men to attempt mad things.

His wife dead and gone, taken by a fever that now ravished his youngest child. The healers did not expect her to live another three days, telling him to begin to sew her shroud. Her tiny, little shroud that could fit one of Sigrid’s straw dolls. He couldn’t bare it.

So he walked into the woods, just as the sun was falling beneath the horizon. He walked until there was no light left and then further still. All the stories said that the Fair Folk lived deep in the woods, so deep that it was another world entirely, so that was where he was headed. For all he knew he would find himself walking straight off the edge of the world and into the darkness itself, but for little Tilda he would risk facing the monsters that lived there.

Fortunately, it did not come to that. Lights began to dance around him, dashing madly from tree to tree before disappearing entirely. They flickered and shone, pulling him further and further in until at last he was completely surrounded by enough light that he was confused as to whether or not he walked right into a new day.

“A mortal in my realm. How strange,” a deep, melodious voice called out, grabbing his attention.

It was the most beautiful creature Bard had ever seen. A man, with hair the color of sunshine and eyes that held the summer sky, watched him from atop a throne made from the very body of a tree. He wore a crown of mulberry branches and was dressed in a rich green. His face was both distant and alluring, radiating a power that had Bard wanting to kneel before him. He resisted, instead standing tall and facing the man head on. The King, for it was obvious that he was the ruler of the Fair Folk, quirked an eyebrow and smirked down at him.

“A mortal of strength. Stranger still.”

Bard didn’t know what these words meant, if they were good or bad. It didn’t matter, though. He needed to speak.

“You of the Fair Folk possess magic, do you not,” he asked, voice strong and steady.

The king graciously nodded his head.

“We do.”

Bard continued.

“And you, as king, could use such magic for the benefit of another?”

The man’s smirk widened into something cold and feral.

“If I wish it.”

“Then I ask that you save my daughter, a child not even a year, who is wracked with the same ill that took her mother from me.”

The man lounged lazily on his throne, watching Bard with keen eyes from his perch.

“And why should I do this for you? You, and your daughter, are mortal. What does it matter if she dies today, tomorrow, or in a hundred years?”

Bard felt anger well up inside him, fists clenching as he fought to keep his temper. This was the way of the Fair Folk, cruel and uncaring. He knew this. He also knew that they could be tempted into doing your bidding, as long as the price was right.

“I would be willing to trade. Ask what you want of me,” he replied.

The man stood from his place with an ethereal grace and approached him, stopping when he was close enough to share his breath.

“Anything I ask of you, you would give it,” he wondered softly, his blue eyes swirling with magic as they peered into Bard’s brown ones. The human did not look away.

“As long as it does not harm any of my children, yes. They will not suffer in anyway.”

The fairy laughed jeeringly.

“Such devotion,” he mocked, as if such a thing was the greatest joke to him. Bard snarled back, unable to hold his temper any longer.

“If it meant my children would live, I would take your own head and not hesitate. I still might if you do not give me what I wish.”

This cause the blond to stop, a pondering look adorning his face. He studied Bard closely, eyes narrowed as he searched for something. What, Bard did not know.

“What is your name, human,” he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Bard hesitated for a moment. There was power in names and were not lightly traded with beings such as the Fair Folk.

“Bard of Dale,” he replied at last.

The fairy nodded.

“I shall grant what you wish, Bard of Dale. For a price.”

“What price is that?”

The blond gave him a mysterious smirk, but said nothing. Instead he leaned close and coaxed him into a deep kiss. When they parted his eyes and skin were aglow with magic.

“The deal is sealed,” he informed. “Your daughter now recovers from her ailment and will live long and well. As will your other children.”

Bard felt his breath escape him in relief. Securing Tilda’s fate was far more than he hoped to achieve, yet now all three were cared for. All that remained was his payment.

“What will you take?”

The fairy laughed again, just as jarringly cruel as the last.

“We will meet again, Bard of Dale. At that time, I will take what belongs to me,” he reassured but gave him no answer as to what that would be. It left a cold feeling in Bard’s stomach. 

Slowly the lights disappeared around them until there was only darkness once more. Bard turned around quickly, eyes searching in the shadows. The fairy was gone and he was alone once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? I hope so! I want to write more with this AU, maybe with Bilbo as a Fae who plays tricks on Thorin the dwarf. We'll see.
> 
> Have any ideas for future stories or pairings? Or even specific story settings for a specific pairing? Let me know! I love to hear them and I read them all. :)


	27. BofurxOri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The toy maker made such wonderful toys, but little Ori never had enough coin to buy one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur and Ori fluff ahead. No romance, just cuteness between a little boy and a toy maker. Enjoy!

The traveling toy maker was a delight they looked forward to. Every third season he would arrive, funny hat atop his head and with a wagon fully of fantastical toys for the children. Like a king he would be heralded into town by a parade of well-wishes and admirers, guided by the children he sold his craft to until he was brought to the prime spot in the marketplace. Immediately he would set up his wares, showing off his newest creations to the wonder of those around.

Ori, like all the other children in the village, loved the toy maker. He had little birds that would drink from a cup of water, constantly swaying back and forth as their beaks dipped into the liquid set before them, and little men that would walk like soldiers when the key in their back was wound. His favorite, though, was the little music boxes that he made, each one with it’s own unique song and design. Unfortunately, he could not have one of those little music boxes. They were much too expensive. Really, any of the toys were. Bofur was highly sought after and only brought so many with him. He tried to keep his prices fair, but often by the time little Ori saved enough to buy something small he had already sold all he had to offer. It was disappointing, but he didn’t let it get him down. Instead he would use to the coins he saved to buy something nice for Dori or Nori, which always made them smile and in turn made him smile.

“Good morning, Master Ori,” Bofur kindly greeted the little boy, a small hunk of wood in his hand that he was carefully whittling away at.

“Good morning, Master Bofur,” he shyly replied, edging close to the man. He watched in fascination as the toy maker shaved the wood down, seemingly at random but no stroke was uncertain. He wondered what it would be.

“What have ya got there, lad?”

Startled, Ori looked down in his hands to remind himself why he was there. His little coin purse, lovingly stitched together by Dori’s own hand, was clutched protectively in his grip. He had been saving since the last time Bofur visited and was certain he had enough now for one of the toy maker’s wonderful playthings. Perhaps a doll with real hair or a puzzle game that he could figure out.

“I would like to buy a toy, please,” he admitted with a bashful smile, presenting his little purse to the man. Bofur hid a smile behind his curled mustache, putting his wood and chisel into his breast pocket so he could take what the lad offered. He opened the purse strings and carefully counted the coin within.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the boy’s situation. Often he would watch the lad come along with the other children to eye his wares, but always on the outskirts. As if he were unwelcome. Once, he offered him a little toy sword to swing about, hoping to tempt him to join in the fun. Little Ori had blushed and mumbled about it being a wonderful toy, but not having enough to buy it before rushing off. It broke his heart to see. Every child deserved a toy that had them smiling so widely it near hurt. It didn’t take a genius to see that Ori was not one of those children.

The purse was filled with an assortment of coins, some shiny and fresh off the mint, other grimy and dull as if they had been plucked from the mud. The businessman inside him knew at a single glance that there was barely enough in the homemade coin purse to purchase one of his little animal figurines, even with a generous discount. It was obvious from the boy’s hopeful face though that he didn’t know this. So Bofur made a decision.

“You certainly have been saving, Master Ori! And it had paid off. Why, there is enough in here to buy any one of my wares and have more to spare,” Bofur exclaimed with a smile, handing the bag back to the boy. Ori’s eyes widened with delight, still a shy smile on his lips.

“Even a music box,” he asked quietly, eagerly, dancing on his toes with excitement.

Bofur’s smile softened, and he nodded his head.

“Aye. Even a music box. Shall we go look at them?”

He helped the boy up into his covered wagon where he kept the more delicate and expensive toys and guided him to the shelf near the back. There were give little boxes on display, of different shapes and colors.

“What sort of music would you like your box to sing,” he asked, kneeling beside the lad.

Ori bit his lip gently, a look of concentration on his face before brightening with understanding.

“Do you have a song that chases away sadness?”

Bofur paused a moment, not quite understanding his question.

“Well,” he replied carefully, “that would depend on the sadness. After all, you can be sad for different reasons.”

The boy nodded in understanding, his eyes carrying a melancholy much to old for his soul.

“Sometimes we don’t have enough food,” he quietly explained. “And that makes Dori sad. Sometimes Nori gets food for us to eat, but has to do bad things to do it. And that makes him sad. And I’m sad when my brothers are sad. So, do you perhaps have a music box that will take the sadness from hunger away?”

Bofur was struck with the hopefulness in the little boy’s voice, a naïve optimism that a simple music box could fix his tragic situation. The older man felt his heart crumble and break. With a voice rough with emotion he replied.

“I don’t have one for hunger itself. But perhaps this will do.”

He grabbed a little round box made of a light wood and painted with a lilac finish. There were flowers etched all along the sides and a sun painted on the top. He cranked the little metal key on the bottom and set it back down, letting the music softly play.

It was tune he had come up with after a particularly trying night, a night where he felt nothing could go right in his life. Then the sun came up and he was reminded that shadows are a temporary thing. All darkness does pass.

He watched the song take hold of little Ori, chasing away the sorrow in his eyes and leaving only childlike wonder behind. They listened to the song together, three times in total before it trailed off to a stop. The boy gave him the brightest smile he had ever seen.

“Yes. I think that will chase away the sadness.”

Bofur smiled gently in return.

“Then it’s yours, lad,” he promised, plucking the box from it’s spot and handing it to the boy. Ori hesitated, shyness coming about him again.

“Master Bofur, can you perhaps wrap it? Maybe with a ribbon?”

The toy maker chuckled, nodding his head and taking the music box to where he did such things. He picked out a lovely red wrapping paper and a matching ribbon, tying it all together with ease. When he was finished he once again offered it to Ori, who now took it reverently.

“Oh, thank you, Master Bofur,” he said, holding the present close. Awkwardly he handed him his coin purse, reluctant to put his new purchase down for even a second. Bofur took it with a chuckle.

He rummaged within, acting as if he was picking out the correct amount due. Instead, with a little slight of hand, he extracted his fingers with nothing between them and closed the purse, slipping it back into the boy’s pocket still full.

“There you are, lad. Now, best you get home and show your brothers what you picked out.”

The boy nodded and allowed himself to be led out of the wagon and back onto the streets.

“Thank you, Master Bofur,” he called once more before running off, face alight with pure joy. Bofur waved him off, smiling as he watched him disappear into town.

He settled back down in his chair, fetching out the wood and chisel he his away in his shirt. Slowly he began to whittle down the wood, an image forming in his mind of what it would look like when down.

An hour later he had the finished toy. A little figurine, no bigger than his hand, of a boy with wide eyes who clutched a music box in his hands.

_This one_ , he thought with a fond smile as he examined his handiwork. _This one I’ll keep_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked writing this one. :) I imagine little Ori was the cutest kid, all bashful smiles and pleasant manners. The exact opposite of what Fili and Kili were like a children. And of course Bofur is excellent with all kids! Love him!
> 
> Have any ideas for futures stories, pairings, or both? Let me know! I love to hear them all.


	28. Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy was a natural thing to hobbits. To dwarves it was a rare, almost unheard of, blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thilbo! Most importantly, a happy Thilbo! I will go down with this ship. Enjoy. :)

Pregnancy was a completely natural thing for a hobbit. Being a race of people who valued all things that grew and brought joy it was only logical that children were plentiful amongst them. When a hobbit became pregnant it was a joyous celebration, but hardly a rare one. Bilbo himself remembered one month alone where he was invited to ten separate parties celebrating a couple's conception.

He knew that it wasn't the case when it came to humans and elves. Man, being distant kin to hobbits, could certainly bare a littler in their lifetimes, but for some strange reason only the women were capable of such things. Even stranger it was dangerous for them! Why, there had even been stories of women who died from childbirth and even, on occasion, the babe. It was quite the sad affair.

Elves, being such a long lived people, had other issues at play. Their biology being what it was meant that they aged slowly. It was centuries before they were considered mature enough to bare young, and centuries more before they found the one they would share that gift with. They loved children, dearly so, but knew it was likely to only have one or perhaps two. They were content with such things.

However, he was horribly surprised when he discovered dwarves were another matter entirely.

"You mean to say that it is not unheard of for dwarrowdams never to fall pregnant in their life times," he asked in shock, looking around at his companions for confirmation.

The dwarves nodded, a melancholic acceptance in their faces.

"For every female born to our people there a three males. And though we are flesh and blood, our ancestors were carved from stone. Stone can be split, but rarely can it multiply," Balin explained.

"There are theories," Oin loudly added. "Such as our womenfolk looking so much like the menfolk, something not found in other races. Perhaps these superficial differences have more effect on our biology than we know."

It was quite jolting to hear. Yet, that only accounted for the women of their people. What if their men?

"Bilbo, men cannot bare bairns. Only women," Bofur answered in confusion.

"Ah," the hobbit now understood. "So you are like Men, then? Not like elves or hobbits."

A few of the dwarves present seemed insulted by the mere suggestion of being anything like elves. The rest caught what he said about hobbits.

"Do hobbits carry young differently?"

Bilbo nodded.

"Oh yes! Hobbit are born male or female, but these differences mean little aside from appearance. Anyone could sire a child or bare one. My mother was my barer, but her brother, my uncle, carried his own children."

This seemed to baffle and bewilder his companions, who all at once began talking amongst themselves and shouting questions at their hobbit friend.

Bilbo himself was quite surprised at their excitement. Pregnancy to him was such a common thing that he never once questioned or wondered at it. As a fauntling it fascinated him, yes, but never did he think it was strange that both males and females carried babies. To him it was as natural as the hair on his feet. Apparently not so to the dwarves.

"How is it done," Kili wondered, eyes intently staring at Bilbo's slightly rounded middle as if it was round because of a child. He blushed, scooting closer to Thorin who glared at his nephew.

Bifur signed something crude, something even Bilbo could understand.

"Ay, that's a good question. Where does the bairn come out," Bofur translated, quite unnecessarily. The hobbit squeaked, burying is head into his lover's side. Thorin protectively wrapped an arm around him.

"As a male you have manly bits. It's true, we've all seen them when we bathed," Fili added with no shame. Bilbo felt as if he were going to faint from all the blood in his face.

"Is there a special spot we missed? Thorin, you've shared a bed with him. Tell us," Dwalin demanded.

"Don't you dare," Bilbo hissed at the dwarf, poking him in the side as a warning. He felt him grunt against him, an oddly reassuring sound.

"Enough questions! Such things are private for hobbits and will remain so. Kili, take your watch. The rest of you, to bed," he ordered, gently helping Bilbo stand and guiding him to their shared bed space. The questions died off and they followed their leader's orders without question. The hobbit was greatly relieved.

"If I had know what a fuss such a thing would cause I would have ever mentioned it," he mumbled, laying down and curling on his side.

He felt Thorin stretch out beside him, a great hairy arm wrapping around his center and pulling him close.

They remained quiet for a few moments, letting the sounds of the settling camp soothe them. Finally, Thorin spoke.

"You say the males of your race can bare children," he whispered, too quiet for anyone but Bilbo to hear. "Does that mean we...that is to say someday, if we wanted, we could have a child of our own?"

Bilbo stilled at his question. It wasn't one that he himself hadn't thought of many times before. He just never imagined Thorin himself ever wanting children. But, perhaps he did, and he didn't say anything because he thought it an impossibility for them.

"Perhaps," he answered. "I'm not really sure. I am not a young hobbit and you are a dwarf. Such things might be hard to overcome."

"But we could try? When Erebor is ours and we are made King and Consort, we could try to make such a thing possible?"

Bilbo felt his heart flutter at the idea. An image of a little boy with his curls, but Thorin's coloring, floated through his mind. It was quickly followed by one of a little girl with blonde hair and sky blue eyes, a lovely beard decorating her delicate chin. He found it was all he wanted in this world.

"Yes," he finally answered, a small smile on his face. "We will try."

Thorin pulled him closer, and without needing to see Bilbo knew he was smiling just as he was. Both fell asleep that night to dreams of children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got babies on my mind. Which is strange because 1) I am far too young to have a baby and 2) I don't have anyone to have a baby with. But I saw cute video and now I can't stop thinking about it. Please tell me this happens to other people.
> 
> Have any ideas for stories, pairings, or both? Let me know. I read them all. :)


	29. Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili hated these sort of events. Luckily for him, Sigrid felt much the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, these two! I firmly believe Fili was robbed of screen time in the films. I would have loved to see more interaction between him and Sigrid. But I guess that's what fanfiction is for. :)

Fili hated these sort of events. Grand balls that were filled with only nobility and servants, the latter having no involvement with the former past their assigned duties, and it was all a great game of politics. He knew it was a necessary evil that came with the throne, but he hated it all the same.

So when he found an opportunity to slip away for a little peace, he took it. Which was why he was currently hiding in the shadows of one of the many balconies that decorated the eastern side of the Mountain, not at all ashamed to admit he was hiding.

He had found himself cornered by a group of particularly insistent Broadbeams and Firebeards, along with their simpering daughters. Apparently being the heir of a wealthy kingdom made you quite the desirable husband. Who would have guessed?

After much strategizing and subtle manipulation that would make his mother proud, he finally escaped and made a quick exit. That was nearly half an hour ago and he had little desire to return soon.

Instead he watched the night sky, marveling at the stars painted above. It was during times like this that he dearly wished he was on the road again, fondly missing the many adventures he had had with his brother before The Quest and the rough living they had endured. It was certainly a far cry from his current lifestyle of finery and wealth. Was he a fool for missing his old threadbare blanket that barely kept him warm on cold nights when he now had a bed made of oak and feathers? Probably. But Fili had always been a dwarf of simple tastes.

"The stars are beautiful tonight, are they not?"

The soft voice startled him from his nostalgia and it was only years of training that kept him from violently reacting.

Instead he turned his head and met the soft gaze of Sigrid, eldest daughter of King Bard and Lady of Dale.

"Though I've heard the skies near the Blue Mountains show different stars. Is that true," she asked, pointedly forgoing the usual formal greetings that take place between two people of their standing as she moved to stand beside him at the railing. Fili was grateful for it.

"Aye, they are. I was just think of all the nights I slept beneath those stars with my brother, during those days when all we had and needed was each other."

Sigrid nodded, a melancholy smile fitting across her face.

"A simpler time when you were just a dwarf and not a prince. A time where your only responsibilities were to ensure your family had enough food and clothing for the winter."

"It seems you similar experience in this."

"You aren't the only one sneaking away from the party to avoid overzealous marriage proposals."

It was honestly something that had never occurred to the dwarf. Sigrid was in a very similar boat as he was, suddenly being thrust into the limelight as newfound royalty to a newly wealthy kingdom. And she might have it even worse. When he married, his spouse would live alongside him, in the Mountain. Sigrid would not have that luxury. She might marry a nobleman of Gondor and be forced to leave her home and family behind for a stranger one.

And who wouldn't wish to marry the young woman? Generous dowry aside, she was incredibly smart and a gifted diplomat who had a wonderfully kind heart. And already songs were being sung of her beauty. But all the attention must be disconcerting, especially since only a few years prior she was the unknown daughter of a barge driver. He was one of the few who could sympathize with her, and she with him.

Heaving a great sigh he gently bumped his hip into hers, a friendly gesture he often employed with his brother.

"Perhaps we should run away together, become nomads and avoid all sorts of responsibilities," he joked, hoping to break her pensive mood. Her small giggle was proof enough that it worked.

"As a girl I dreamed of being a shield maiden of Rohan. Perhaps we shall join an eored?"

Fili chuckled, an image of little Sigrid pretending a broom was her horse and waving about a stick in place of a sword.

"With our manes of gold they would be none the wiser!"

The continued to laugh together as they thought of different ways they could run away, each more ridiculous than the last. The mood was considerably lighter and future marriages were forgotten for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I like it, though I don't think I'll continue it. I think it's nice as a "first romantic encounter" kind of thing.
> 
> Have any ideas for future pairings, stories, or both? Let me know. I read them all! :)


	30. Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo didn't like Thorin Durin, homicide detective. Unfortunately, as the hosptial's best pathologist, he saw him often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Thilbo!
> 
> So, I have performances with my halau (school of hula) all weekend in DC. Which means I've written this ahead so I can post on time. I have two choices written for Sunday as well, which will depend on how you all like this one. But don't worry, you will have updates today and tomorrow! :)

It wasn't the route anyone though Bilbo would take. As adventurous as he was in his youth those that knew him thought he would settle down into a life of writing, perhaps even investigative journalism. Pathologist was the last thing they imagined. But that was what he did. He went to medical school, graduated top of his class, found an excellent residency program that suited his interests, and five years after completing that settled down into a comfortable job cutting up dead bodies. It was an oddly nice story to tell, however gruesome the ending.

However, for all that he did enjoy his work, there were some pitfalls. Such as his hospital working alongside the local police department when cases such as abuse and murder came along. Not that Bilbo had anything against the police, no indeed! Some of his best friends were officers with the law. There was one detective, however, that took great pleasure in rubbing him the wrong way. Unfortunately for Bilbo, he was the best homicide investigator they had, which meant he oftener worked with the best pathologist they had to offer. Him.

"Durin," he coldly greeted as the dark haired man entered his morgue, his partner following behind.

"Baggins. Have you ruined my body, yet," Thorin Durin replied with a haughty smirk. Bilbo glared at him. He had never once ruined a body during an autopsy, especially when the body is question was a suspected victim of foul play. However that didn't stop the detective from constantly doubting his abilities. Choosing to take the high road and ignore the jab at his professional capabilities, he greeted his partner instead. Far more warmly and cordially.

"Good afternoon, Dwalin. How is Ori," he asked with a smile, noting with glee the frown he was receiving from Thorin at being ignored.

Dwalin Fundinson, quite used to the petty dynamics between his partner and their pathologist, replied politely. He had no issue with Bilbo and neither did Bilbo have one with him.

"He's well enough, thanks for asking. His latest novel has been approved for publishing. He's very excited about that."

"That's wonderful! I really enjoyed his last one, The Rise of Erebor. Please give him my congratulations."

"If you two are quite done chattering like hens," Thorin interjected with a fierce scowl. "I would like to know what killed my victim."

Frowning at the interruption, Bilbo brushed by the detective and toward the body laid out on display. Kicking his stool to where he might comfortably stand and present his findings, he began to recite all that he had discovered.

"The victim is a white male, late 30's. No ID found on him, but we are running dental records as we speak. Blunt force trauma to the head indicates that he was knocked unconscious, but not killed. Light abrasions on his skin indicate that he was dragged away, through a parking lot most likely, where he was than dumped into the water and subsequently drowned.

We're running tests on the water found in his lungs, but it mostly likely matches the river which he was found floating in," he explained, the very air of a professional.

Thorin nodded, looking over the body with keen eyes. He pointed to the victims hands, which were scrapped and bloody.

"Did he attempt to crawl out of the river? There were a lot of rocks where we found him."

Bilbo shook his head, picking up one of the hands to show the detectives.

"The blood on his hands isn't his own. He most likely struggled with his attacker before he was knocked out. The scraps are postmortem, and correspond with the others found in his lower back and legs. That is where the parking lot theory comes into play."

"So whoever did this will most likely have deep scratches from the fight?"

"That would be very likely, yes."

He laid the hand back down and turned to grab a small Petri dish.

"This was found beneath his nails," he handed the evidence to the other man. "Human hair, short and dark brown. No signs of artificial coloring."

"Dwalin," Thorin called, examining the hair given to him through the glass.

"Already on it," the other man replied, phone to his ear as he called their department with the latest information.

"Anything else, Baggins?"

"If there was I would tell you. You're free to leave whenever you please."

Thorin smirked, obviously glad to get some sort of reaction out of the man.

"Do you need help getting of your box," he mockingly wondered, offering his hand. "It's quite a distance down."

Infuriated, Bilbo was ready to unleash a stream of sharp retorts but was interrupted by the door of his morgue swinging open and a third person entering.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Bilbo," Smeagol, the hospitals janitor greeted with a wide, near toothless smile. He nervously swept his hand over his head, as if to fix the few long, greasy strands that stuck there into some resembling neatness.

Bilbo forced a smile onto his face, polite yet distant. He wasn't overly fond of the janitor, finding him vaguely unnerving and with no terms of personal boundaries. He seemed harmless enough, though, and he found that he pitied the lonely man. So he made an effort to be kind when he could.

"Good morning, Smeagol. Is there something I can help you with," he asked.

The man shuffled further in, pale blue eyes wide and focused intently on him. He didn't seem to notice the two detectives.

"I brought you lunch," he explained, eagerly showing him the crushed and obviously homemade sandwich wrapped in plastic. It was very unappetizing.

"That is very kind of you, Smeagol. But I'm afraid I actually have plans for lunch already. I'm sorry you went through the trouble," he lied. He never had plans for lunch, besides eating what he packed from home at his desk. Obviously, Smeagol had been counting on this.

"Plans, precious? He never has plans," the janitor muttered to himself, though loudly enough for the rest to hear. Bilbo felt himself tense. It was these kinds of things he did that put the pathologist on edge.

"Well he does today," Thorin broke in, voice hard and intimidating. Smeagol jumped, finally noticing the two other men in the room. "Dr. Baggins will be having lunch with me, where we will be discussing the elements of a case we are currently working on together. And you're presence here in this morgue while this investigation is being held is not allowed. I must ask you to leave."

It wasn't a request. Smeagol squirmed, obviously uncertain as to what he should do, before turning around and scurrying out. All the while muttering beneath his breath. Bilbo was sure they weren't nice things.

When the door swung shut he turned to the detective with a frown.

"You're involvement was neither needed not appreciated. I can handle Smeagol myself," he scolded, stepping down from his stool and wheeling the table back to its assigned refrigerator.

"He's dangerous. After working twenty years in the service you learn to spot the type," Thorin replied, crossing his arms in a show of authority. Bilbo rolled his eyes, not at all impressed or intimidated.

"He wouldn't hurt a spider! He's just a lonely man who doesn't understand proper social norms. Hardly a Ted Bundy type."

Thorin seemed unconvinced, but let the subject drop for now. Instead he turned to exchange a few whispered words with Dwalin, who nodded and then left. Bilbo watched with a raised brow.

"Aren't you going with him?"

The dark haired man shook his head.

"No, I'm taking you to lunch," he informed bluntly. Bilbo blinked in surprise.

"No you aren't."

Thorin smirked at him.

"Yes, I am. How embarrassing would it be if your janitor friend returned only to discover you lied about your lunch plans and instead just wanted to be rid of him?"

Bilbo was ready to reply that that wouldn't happen, but stopped himself. Smeagol often popped into his office unannounced and at odd hours. It made him uncomfortable.

"Fine," he growled, taking off his coat and pulling on his jacket. "But we go where I want to go and I'm ordering the most expensive thing there is."

Thorin smirked, holding the door open for him.

"What ever your heart desires, Baggins."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? I hope so!
> 
> Have any ideas for future pairings, stories, or both? Let me know! I love to hear them and read them all. :)


	31. Bilbo/Thoirn, Fili/Sigrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the wide world, Thorin, son of Thrain, was a stoic and unfeeling man. But Bilbo knew that wasn't true. He knew how deeply he truly felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know who this really centers around. Bilbo and Thorin, for sure, but there is heavy Sigrid and Fili as well. Really, just a multi-relationship story to end the month. Enjoy!

"You should be resting. Let someone else fetch you what you need," Thorin cautioned, eyes slightly panicked at the sight of his niece-in-law raising from the couch that she had been sitting on since morning.

"Thorin, I'm fine. I just need to use the washroom," Sigrid replied with a diplomatic smile, hiding her annoyance with the over protective dwarf King. He had been hovering ever since Fili had announced their pregnancy, somehow convinced that she would fatally harm herself or the babe by doing anything other than sitting or laying down.

"If you wait a moment I can fetch Dis or perhaps Bahar to assist you."

Sigrid sighed, doing her best to ignore the headache forming behind her eyes and the increasing ache in her lower back. She dearly hoped Bilbo would return soon and reign in his husband before she did something she would regret. Like shout or stab him with a knife.

"Thorin, we have gone over this," she explained gently and with the same voice she used to lecture the little ones, "pregnancy is not a death sentence, especially for a human woman like myself. My people are more sturdy in these kind of things then dwarves, with many women still working in the fields up until they give birth."

"But you are not a common woman. You don't need to work! So you should take advantage of your station and let others handle things for you," he reasoned.

Her patience was very close to snapping. Taking a deep breath, she desperately tried to sooth her nerves. It was no small feat with the great lump of hair hovering so near. Finally she managed to regain a small portion of peace.

"Thank you for your concern, but I am fine."

"For Eru's sake, Thorin, leave her be," the voice of the Consort broke in, Bilbo returning from his errands.

Sigrid gave a grateful sigh as the hobbit entered the room and scolded his overprotective, worry-wart of a spouse. With his attention now on the hobbit, Sigrid waddled as fast as she could to the toilet leaving the two men to themselves.

"Honestly Thorin, you are becoming such a pain that I wouldn't be surprised if Sigrid insisted she and Fili have the baby in Dale for the sake of some peace," Bilbo scolded, a fond smile on his face.

Thorin frowned at this thought, already forming an argument to such a measure but the hobbit cut him off before he could speak.

"Sigrid is fine. She is nine months along and is as healthy as a horse. And she is a remarkably sensible young woman, who wouldn't put herself through anything her body couldn't handle."

The dwarf King frowned, letting his shoulder drop in a rare visual sigh of defeat but didn't let the worry leave his face.

"I understand that, amrâlimê, truly I do. But every time I look at her I can't help but picture Dis, who had such difficult pregnancies with Fili and Kili, or my mother, who lost two babes before bringing my brother Frerin into the world. Or the countless dwarf women who die from their births," Thorin confessed, eyes alight with sorrow and fear.

Bilbo smiled gently at his husband, a dwarf that hide such a soft heart behind a granite slab of emotional constipation. Thorin loved with all his being and treasured his family about all else. Sigrid's safety, and the unborn babe's, was as important to him as his own nephews'.

The hobbit stepped beside him, gently cupping his cheek and raising on his toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I know the tragedy you dwarves have faced in times that should have been joyful. It is not something easily forgotten. But this isn't one of those times. She is not living in poverty and filth, and has the finest healers waiting on her hand and foot. All will be well. Trust me."

Thorin frowned, but nodded anyway, gently pressing his forehead against Bilbo's. It was a small act of comfort, one that was readily returned by Bilbo.

They stood together like that for a few moments, relishing in the presence of the other. Such moments like these were rare nowadays, with duties of the crown coming first with the fast approaching winter. They treasured the few they had.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I do believe it's time to fetch Fili and Oin," Sigrid said, coming from the washroom with a nervous smile on her face.

The two men looked at her and the suspicious wet spot on her skirts in shock.

"My waters have broken. The babe is coming."

XxxxX

"Something is wrong. It shouldn't be taking this long," Thorin worried, pacing the floor of the sitting room while Bilbo watched amusedly.

"Your sense of time is as awful as your sense of direction, my dear king. It has only been a few hours, quite common for first time births. Especially human ones."

The hobbit's words did little to sooth the dwarf. He continued his pacing, only stopping for brief moments when his keen hearing heard a moan or cry of pain from the birthing room. Then his pacing increased.

He wasn't the only one a nervous wreck. Kili was in the corner with his mother, an arrow being twirled at an alarming pace between his fingers and his bottom lip chewed almost raw. The young prince had dearly wanted to be in the room with his brother and sister-in-law, but Bilbo had pulled him away. This was one thing the brothers could not be together for.

The other dwarves were in the same boat, with some, like Balin and Dis, managing to hide their worry better than others. Dwalin had long since given up any act of pretending nonchalance and had obsessively cleaning his axe and muttering beneath his breath. The only other one who wasn't nervous was Bard himself. Bilbo had asked after the latter, who simply shrugged and smiled ruefully.

"My wife, rest her soul, had very easy pregnancies and births. Sigrid is like her in many ways, has her humor and her strength. She'll be fine."

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Bilbo had wondered aloud, smoking his pipe with the man. "Births are a happy occasion and the lass is only bringing one into the world. Triplets on the other hand, now that is cause for worry!"

The dwarves had been horrified at the thought of more than one babe being born at a time, such a thing unheard of in dwarven culture. Twins were a rare thing, triplets unheard of. A single birth was dangerous for a dwarf mother, multiple could kill her and the children.

"And that's the thing to remember," Bard calmly interjected, "Sigird is not a dwarf. We humans are quite a prolific race, second only to hobbits. Birth, though hard, are not impossible for us."

"Aye. Oin was not worried, neither were any of the human healers that were consulted. Let the lass do what she was made to do and all will be well."

Some peace was restored to the room, with Thorin even sitting down after awhile. It didn't last long, however, when a particularly loud cry came from the closed birthing room.

"That's it," Thorn growled and leapt from his seat, intently making his way to the door with Kili quick on his heels. However they were stopped short by the sudden cry of a new voice, a voice strong and loud.

Those in the room had fallen silent, looks of wonder on their face. Kili was the first one to break the silence, his dumbfounded face breaking into a wide smile and laughter spilling from his lips.

"I'm an uncle," he cried, manic joy dancing through his eyes as he laughed.

And then room came back to life, cheers and shouts of joy filling the walls. Bilbo watched Thorin give his own nephew a firm clap on the shoulder, a small smile gracing his own face.

In the corner Nori and Bofur were  
dancing in a circle, arms linked as they twirled about and whoops of laughter leaving their lips.

And then the door opened, revealing the inhabitants within and quieting their celebration. Fili, all golden hair and smiles with tears of joy streaming down his face, walked out, a small bundle cradled gently in his strong arms.

"My kings," he said, stepping toward Thorin and Bard and peeling back the cloth to reveal the baby within. "It is my greatest pleasure to introduce you to my son. Thili, Prince Under the Mountain."

The tears that came to Thorin's eyes were not hidden because they were not shameful. Rather they were exalted, proof at how loved this child was and would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> January is done! Yay! :) I'm honestly amazed I made it without missing a day. See you tomorrow for the start of Feburary.

**Author's Note:**

> got babies on my mind. Which is strange because 1) I am far too young to have a baby right now (I'm 22 FYI) and 2) I don't have anyone to have a baby with. But I saw cute video and now I can't stop thinking about it. Please tell me this happens to other people.
> 
> Have any ideas for stories, pairings, or both? Let me know. I read them all. :)


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